


Surprised By Joy, Impatient As the Wind

by romangold



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe- Mermen, Gen, No Romance, mentioned attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romangold/pseuds/romangold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's lake is a tranquil spot in the forest of a peaceful kingdom. He keeps to himself, and is content to watch the people pass him by each day, to swim as he likes, to watch the seasons change. What he doesn't expect is to find a prince at his lake, weighed down with griefs and conspiracies on his shoulders. As they continue to meet and grow closer, they both reveal themselves completely as the entire kingdom changes around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

Jack kept the water clean for the waving plants and murmuring fish.

The lake was spacious and deep, and, perhaps best of all, located in the middle of the woods where it would not be bothered but in passing. The summer months were by far the best of each year, when the water was cool, the leaves were the richest green, the wind kissed the earth like a child...

And, if Jack was lucky, he would have visitors.

Lovers and readers, tree-climbers and trekkers. Sometimes there were hunters, with spikes to take Jack’s fish. But they were not as fearless as they made themselves seem, and he sent them off every time without trouble.

Perhaps that was where the stories began.

Jack became a local tale. The lake became a mystery. Wondering people came in search of things told to them by mischievous siblings, by parents wishing to spook their children, by friends in the night.

Humans were curious creatures.

The lake was big enough for Jack to peer at them from behind a rock, from across the water. Never up close. But, from what he could tell, they were merry, and looked quite a bit like Jack did. Humans had noses and fingers and eyes like Jack did, and skin and hair. He always wondered how the humans made their hair so neat, how the females designed theirs so intricately. Jack’s was not nearly long enough to do anything with- it stuck up in a short, messy heap atop his head, brown as bark and already speckled with silver. Their clothing interested him as well, but not as much as...

Jack often heard them speak, as well. They spoke of many things that intrigued him. _Books. Fire. Jackets._ Human things.

Walking.

Jack didn't quite understand this. He had learned what fire was, and had found one of their books, left behind under a tree once. Books held stories, fire held heat, as did jackets. It was their way of locomotion that he wondered about most often. He hadn’t the faintest idea what to call the things these humans walked on, or what they wore over them.

The more Jack observed the humans, the more he wanted to know of them. Unlike him, these creatures could not breathe underwater, and therefore could not survive in the lake as Jack could. Many of them, he heard, lived in _houses_ , but only several lived in the bright castle visible above the trees, and none of those several ever ventured out to the lake. Jack gazed at it often, and wondered what it would be like to reside in such an abode. But he knew, however much he wished to approach one, that humans were finicky and loud, and quite superstitious.

And what would a human think of a creature born with the bottom half of a fish?

Jack kept to his quiet lake, and the soft breeze. He enjoyed the summer for what it was. This season was quiet. Spring was nearing its end, the leaves darkening in color and the flowers falling from the branches. Often they would fall into the lake, the water reflecting the blue sky. Jack enjoyed scooping them up and placing the delicate white flowers in his hair, or tucking one behind his ear.

Jack received his first visitor of the season on a perfect cloudless morning when the flowers floated along the water. He swam up from his little underwater home to behind a large rock and surfaced, green tail wiggling anxiously. He peered around.

A man was kneeling beside the water, head bowed, body sighing and drooping as a weeping willow would. His face was hidden, but his thick head of hair was as black as the nighttime sky. His clothing glittered in the sun’s soft rays, and Jack marveled at it- he had never seen a human adorned with something so beautiful, or that the sun seemed to love so.

He stared for a long time, at war with himself. He had always wanted to see a human up close, had always wanted to speak with one. The inevitable question of why Jack refused to leave the water would pop up, though, and it was the reaction that truly made him hesitant.

Jack sank below the water, swimming closer to the human as much as he dared. He reached another rock, closer to the shore, that didn’t stick up out of the water as much as the last one he had been hiding behind. Slowly, slowly, Jack drew himself up, peeking his head above the rock.

The human was very close to him now. Jack saw that he was trembling, even in the warmth of the early summer sun. The man on the shore took no notice of the curious water creature, despite how near to each other they were. Jack saw that the human’s cheeks were damp, and cocked his head to the side at this. The stranger’s eyes were wet as well, of all the strange things. Jack had never seen anything like it before. The oddity aside, it was clear that the man on the shore was very upset.

Plucking up his courage, Jack brought his whole torso up from the lake, leaning on the rock. He took a flower that floated in front of him and pushed it forward through the water until it came to a stop in front of the human. It rested there, snow-white against the blue of the lake.

The human took notice of this and, with shaking fingers, scooped up the flower from the water; he gazed down at where it sat in his hands.

He looked up. Then over.

He locked eyes with Jack.

The sun shone down on the two. Neither moved for a long while.

Jack wondered if humans had discovered magic, as his two mage friends had. He had never been under a spell before, but as he gazed at the sparkling man, Jack found himself unable to look away. Never before had he been so _close_ to a human before, let alone royalty. The man's eyes were deep, despairing, wet like the lake. Brown. Sincere.

“Who are you?” the human spoke up at last.

Jack didn't want any human to know who he was- _what_ he was. Even this one, who could draw water from his own eyes with some sort of magic, who wore clothes furnished from the sun’s own rays, whose hair was a sliver of the night’s black beauty, stolen while the moon wasn’t looking.

“Why are you doing that?” Jack asked instead.

The human shook his head slightly, crinkling his eyes in confusion. “Doing what?”

Jack brought his own pale finger to his bottom eyelid and drew an invisible line down to his chin, miming the water droplets staining the other’s skin. The human touched his face and wiped away the water. “Oh. I'm sorry. For the tears, I mean. I didn’t mean to...to...” He didn't answer Jack’s question, so the water creature asked another.

“I’ve never seen clothing like that before,” he admitted. “Do you come from that castle over the trees?”

The man smiled slightly, though it didn’t seem like a happy one. “Actually, yes. I’ve lived there my entire life.”

Ah, so this was one of the two princes Jack had heard spoken of. One of the visiting female humans last season had enjoyed speaking of the royalty to her friend. According to the two, the castle was filled with priceless paintings, rooms stuffed with jewels, and all the furniture was made from gold, nothing less. There was a servant always at the ready and nothing was ever in short supply. Their horses were purebreds, with threads of silver braided into their manes and tails, with precious pearls and rubies encrusted in their saddles and bits.

The princes themselves, Jack had overheard, were very different in nature, yet each was no less pure of heart than the other. Their father the king had recently passed, and the eldest was to be crowned once a marriage was arranged.

“If you’re from the royal castle,” Jack continued on, confused again by the silliness of humans,“then why are you so upset? Surely...don't you have everything you need?”

The- what had they been called? Ah, yes- tears fell from the prince’s sad eyes once again, and he looked to be in a rage for just a moment before it seeped out of him instantaneously. “I know that you mean well,” he sighed, gaze falling to the lake shore,“but you don't understand. Nothing can replace what I've lost.”

Jack’s face fell, eyes growing wide at such a declaration. “Excuse me for asking, er, my prince,” Jack murmured,“but what happened? What's hurting you?”

The prince held the white flower in both hands and let his eyes leak onto it like rain drops. “There has been,” he said at last,“a death in the royal family. My- my brother, Prince Thomas, he-” Then there were too many tears for the human to continue speaking, and he knelt there next to the lake, trembling in despair.

Jack couldn't bear to see anyone feel such sadness. The brother lost so soon after the father? The world was too cruel. The merman moved his arms away from the rock. His tail moved gently under the water, sending the naive creature towards the shore, all the while making sure only his top half was visible.

Only when Jack was in front of him did the prince open his eyes, red-rimmed and soaked. Jack pursed his lips, his fingertips grazing the grass at the edge of the lake. He blinked, then turned his gaze to where the water and earth met.

"I was told once that everyone is a star," Jack spoke. "We burst into existence before blazing through our lives. Every star must burn up at one point and then return to the heavens to guide the way for travelers and traders and rulers. For everyone who's lost their way. Your brother is up there now. He's a star, my prince. He's a constellation, ready to lead you on the right path."

The prince listened, his cheeks wet and his eyes shut. He knelt in front of the lake-dweller as if praying at an altar, listening to a new gospel that had moved him to extreme emotion.

“I think that’s enough sadness over the dead for one day,” Jack advised. “Your brother's at peace, I’m sure. And you have a life to continue living. Your people need you. You have to find your own peace in life.”

The smile grew further over the man’s cheeks. “...Yes. You’re right. I do. I...I'm needed.” He stood, confidence regained, back straight, the sunlight hitting his royal garb just so, lighting up his eyes. “Sir, what's your name?”

“Jack,” the creature answered, swallowing slightly. 

The human fell to one knee in front of him. “Jack,” he said, voice soft, yet no less intense,“if there's anything you should ever need, don't hesitate to call upon me. Kindness from a person will be rewarded with kindness in return.” He glanced away for a moment, as if unsure whether to continue his course of speech. “If...If I want to visit you again...can I find you here?”

Jack grinned, excited at the thought of a human friend. “Of course,” he replied. “I’m always at the lake, my prince.”

The human’s smile returned to him, and he stood once more. “None of that ‘prince’ nonsense,” he insisted. “Just call me Mark.” On heavy feet, he made his way to the trees. “I must be off. Farewell, Jack!”

Jack only waved, his chest bubbling. It felt strange.

It felt good.


	2. The Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit on the short side, but the ones after this will give much more depth.

Mark visited again soon after their first meeting; only two days after he and Jack spoke for the first time, the prince was back. He sat on the shore while the water creature floated in all innocence about the side of the lake or leaned on the rock that hid his green scales and tail, only visible from the waist up. The days continued to be perfect as spring neared its end: the flowers bloomed and danced into the water from the trees above, the sun became stronger each day, the wind was warm and tender, and Mark visited.

They spoke, Jack only a few words of support and curiosity while Mark described life at the castle, the commotion that currently surrounded it, and how his mother would not leave her chambers following the sudden death of her oldest son. The situation became more and more clear each day the human visited and explained more of what was happening where he lived. Within a week, Jack was aware of the following:

The King had died in a hunting accident almost two months ago, leaving his eldest son Thomas heir to the throne. The kingdom had mourned with the family until it was imperative that another king be crowned. Wedding plans were made; the coronation was set up, rehearsed, and announced for the kingdom to come and see; Thomas was prepared with some haste to take control of the land. He prepared well, Mark remembered in fondness, was benevolent and wise and was to be a trustworthy monarch that his people would sing of with cheer.

Two weeks before the coronation, Prince Thomas was found drowned outside in the castle’s fountain.

Jack stared, wide-eyed, as his prince recounted the last of the sad few months, tears dripping down his cheeks. “And now I have to be king!” he cried. He clenched his hands into fists. “I'm not fit to rule a whole kingdom like my brother was. I’ll never be a great king like Thomas was going to be.”

It had been seven days since Jack and Mark had met, and the topic of the prince’s death was being elaborated upon for the first time. Jack found it depressing, an emotion with which he wasn’t all too familiar. He felt it all the same.

“But the kingdom needs a king,” Jack protested, swimming over so he was floating next to the shore,“and the king has to serve his people, whether or not he's certain that he can do it, whether or not he makes a mistake here and there as he goes. Am I wrong?”

Mark didn’t speak at first, instead opting to sniff and wipe his eyes. He shook his head. “No,” he assured. “No, you're not. You never are, Jack.” He gazed over the lake. “I...I don’t want to be king, though. I never wanted to be. I’m afraid of becoming trapped. I want to be free as I am, now.” He locked eyes with his friend. “As you are.”

Jack felt the urge to confess to Mark that he wasn’t as free as one might think. Now that he thought about it, he would never be free, either. Confined forever to a lake in the middle of the woods, with no one to share it with and no way to swim away from it, no way to walk away from it. The hole Jack had begun to feel growing in his stomach thrived.

The water creature opened his mouth to speak, but the prince beat him to it. “Jack,” Mark exclaimed,“I have an idea. What would you say if I offered you a visit to the palace?”

Jack’s mouth went dry. Saying _no_ would look suspicious. On the other hand, there was no possible way for him to say _yes_ and follow through with it.

“I...” Jack panicked,“I...I don’t know what to say.”

Mark’s kind expression never wavered. “I understand your apprehension. Honestly, though, there’s nothing to fear, or be nervous about. It’s just that...you've brought me such peace of mind, and excellent advice. I'm just inviting you to come to the palace with me so that you can do the same to my mourning family and subjects. And I still promise to reward you for your kindness in any way that I'm capable of.”

 _Don't gape at him,_ Jack hissed to himself. _Think fast._ He had to think of an answer, a reason why he couldn’t possibly visit the future king and his court, or even leave the lake he swam in every time Mark visited him. If the prince valued him and their friendship so much, would he continue to speak to Jack if his identity was revealed? If Mark discovered that Jack was not, in fact, human? Would he call for spears and nets and make the poor creature part of some perverted freak show? Would he use his magic fire on him? Roast him? Eat him?

“I...don't believe that I...am... _fit_ to enter the royal castle,” Jack spluttered, sinking lower into the water so that it came up to his chest.

The prince’s expression became sincere; he reached forward and took one of Jack’s hands in both of his own. “Jack. Listen. I can't think of anyone more fit or more deserving of walking the halls of the royal castle than you.”

Jack flinched at the word _walking_. He didn’t know whether to pull his hand away or clutch at Mark’s like the fate of the kingdom depended on it. “I- I-” he stammered, unsure of how to break his secret, if he _should_ break his secret. He couldn’t lie to the prince, of all people.

“I...can't leave the lake, Mark,” he confessed, eyes wide, frightened.

The human was, as expected, confused. “You can't? Why? I don’t understand.” He then asked,“Is there someone that you can’t leave alone? I assure you that they'll be treated as well as you, if that’s the case.”

Jack turned his gaze down to the water. “That's not the case.”

“You can tell me, Jack,” the prince reminded him. “We’re friends.” The human chuckled, then. “Are you the magical creature from the village stories that lives in the depths of the lake? What do you have for legs, a lobster tail?” Mark laughed again.

He stopped when he caught a glance of the guilty expression on Jack’s face and the dullness that had blanketed his blue eyes. 

“...Jack?”

The troubled man spoke up. “I have to go,” he excused, tone sad. He began to swim away behind the large rock so he could disappear without submerging and not coming back up, but the grip on his hand was too firm. He looked back to see that Mark’s expression had turned to stone.

“Jack,” the prince implored, voice soft. His hands did not hurt Jack, and neither did his words. “Please tell me what's wrong. I couldn’t bear to never see you again. You're one of the best friends I've ever had.”

The water creature was silent. He gazed into the prince’s eyes with such despair he felt as if his heart was breaking. He had to make a decision: Silence or truth. The persistent prince would never let go of this secret that Jack had- as royalty, it was likely that he had never been denied anything before. If there was a secret that was keeping Jack from visiting the castle, then Mark had to know, and have his wish of his friend accompanying him to his home.

Jack opened his mouth and spoke. "I-"

A call from the treeline interrupted them. "My liege!" Mark released Jack's hand and turned his head to address the disturbance. A tall, sturdy man approached the lake, dressed in well-to-do garments, hair and beard trimmed and fresh. The prince stood to greet him, unsure of how to react. "Wade!" he exclaimed. "How...how did you find me here? Has something gone wrong?"

Wade shook his head. "No, Mark, but you've been gone for a while. I was sent to look for you and make sure you weren't harmed."

The prince nodded. "Well, then...I believe it's time for me to return to the- my subjects." He turned to face the lake. "Jack-"

The lake was quiet, still, and void of any people. Jack was gone.


	3. The Royals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look into Mark's life, and how the castle is holding up as important events draw closer.

Every ride back to the castle was a miserable one. This one was worse, Mark was sure, because he felt as if he was being escorted.

He had known Wade since the two of them were children, and rank hadn’t changed anything between them. But now...it was nearing the eve of Mark’s wedding, and soon after that, he would be crowned king. One would think that such a thought would make his heart shine with pride, power, confidence.

All the prince felt was dread.

“You’re quiet, for once,” Wade remarked as they trotted along on their steeds. Mark replied,“What’s to be said from my end? Is there any news from the castle?”

Wade shook his head. “Truthfully, no. Felix handles everything well when you’re absent. The princess is set to arrive on time, and the date for the wedding party has been announced. Most of the kingdom is attending the masquerade ball, and the coronation."

“I see,” Mark nodded. “I hope they like me well enough.” He looked up at his thane, eyes expressing his vulnerability. “How's my mother?”

With a more gentle expression, Wade replied,“Still in her chamber. She eats more with each passing day. Felix has been keeping the castle running in your short absences each day. He thinks you should be allowed to take all the time you desire to grieve alone, but everyone's anxious for you to return, and to be safe.” He paused. “There’s been...well...”

The taller man hesitated, and his prince eyed him, brow furrowed.

“What?”

Wade blinked, quickly, several times. “There’s been...talk.”

The thane looked over to Mark for the first time since they had begun their trek back to the palace. “Everyone is sure that there won’t be a coronation.”

Mark almost stopped his horse. He almost laughed. He almost sighed in relief. No coronation? He pushed this idea, if just for his own pleasure. “Why would they think that?” His friend turned his gaze on his animal’s mane; he had made a mistake in bringing up the topic. “It’s just gossip, Mark,” he excused. “It’s just an unsettling rumor, honestly-”

“Wade,” was all that had to be said. The taller man let out a quick breath of air before continuing. He recounted,“Well, it has some truth to it. Your father the king, found dead in the woods. Your brother, about to take up the throne, drowned with no witnesses. And now you're about to be wed and crowned.”

Mark’s back was stiff. He stared on ahead, not really seeing the trees with their summer leaves and the clear path ahead of them. “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what was meant.

“Who’s to say those weren't accidents? People in the villages are taking bets on where your body will be discovered mysteriously before your coronation, Mark. No one at the castle wants you to be on your own anymore, at least until after you’re king. Even then you’re not safe until you have a son of your own. You’re the last male heir to the throne- you know all this. Aren’t you worried that there might be something going on?”

Annoyance bubbled into a sudden frustration of bottled-up rage, and the prince halted his horse, eyes wild and voice barbed. “If somebody wants the throne,” he spat,“then let them have it. If someone wants to take my place in this royal cage of mine, give them the key and see if they regret locking themselves inside. I'll see it as a blessing if I'm killed in the night so that I may fly away from this curse of power!”

Mark snapped on his reigns before Wade could speak again, and the prince thundered on to the castle.

* * *

If Mark could do one thing forever, it would be to ride his horse. Always traveling, his eyes blessed by village and countryside alike. And when his horse would give out eventually, Mark would continue on foot, in love with every tree and flower, every cloud and mountain he would see. He would rather be cursed in wanderlust than have a crown weigh down his head.

Mark was sure he was already cursed with such a thing.

The only place the prince did not feel the itch to jump up and leave from was the lake, when he would visit Jack. Yet the advice given to him by the man was to go back to his people and be the king he never wanted to be.

However strange Jack might have seemed, his suggestions were never faulty. Mark felt it strongly as he slowed his horse, approaching the- his castle. His castle, now. And, if not now, soon. His wedding was in two days, fast approaching. Once that was done, the coronation could take place several days later, and the kingdom would be complete once again.

After dismounting his steed and allowing his stable boy to walk it away, Mark thudded up the stairs, his guards in their stiff positions of greeting. The grand doors of the castle opened for him, and there, waiting for the prince, stood Mark’s most trusted archduke.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Felix sighed. “You get pensive when you’re alone for too long. It’s not healthy.”

The prince pursed his lips in what could be called a smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Felix.” He entered the palace, and the two friends walked down the hall in deep conversation.

“The castle has been waiting you to return from your ride with bated breath for half the day, Mark,” the archduke reminded him. “They’re all anxious for you to be wedded, bedded, and crowned already.”

“Yes, I’m aware of everyone’s worries,” Mark nodded, and avoided the topic. “The wedding's still in two days?”

“Yes,” Felix affirmed as the two men reached the stairs and began to ascend them. “Princess Marzia's sent several messages, none of which have been to postpone. She's supposed to arrive the morning of.”

And though the thought made Mark want to run back to the lake and never return, he answered,“Good.”

Mark didn’t want to talk about the preparations anymore, but the blond man persisted. “Are you going to have a guest of honor for the masquerade ball? It’s traditional. I’m sure the commoners would be grateful for an extra face to make them feel more at ease, knowing who will be there for the new king and queen.”

The masquerade ball was the traditional celebration for a marriage. With two people newly joined in matrimony, the king or regent would announce a guest of honor that would traditionally become the spouses’ friend and confident, someone who would look after them and help them through the rest of their lives together. Mark eyed his duke, who was looking ahead of them as they continued up the stairs. Felix’s father had been the guest of honor at the celebration of Mark’s parents’ wedding. Mark knew that Felix had the thought on his mind, but...

The only person Mark could think of was Jack. Felix was a great friend, and the prince had known him nearly all of his life, but the archduke was ambitious, a tad eccentric, and...simply not who Mark wanted. Felix was already his confident, his guide. He trusted the man with his life already.

No, not Felix. And maybe not even Wade, though Mark felt guilty just with the thought of denying his closest friend such an honor in favor of a strange man in a lake he had met a week ago.

As they cleared the top of the staircase, Mark realized that he had too many things to sort out in too little time.

“Felix,” the prince instructed, pausing in their stroll,“when Wade returns, I want to speak with him privately, in the solar.” The archduke nodded, and asked if he needed anything else.

Mark shook his head. “No, you there’s nothing more you can help me with. You’re dismissed.”

And then Mark was alone to tend to the only family he had left.

* * *

The soup was cold, half-eaten, having been abandoned for some time. The bread was cold, the cheese was warm, and both were untouched entirely. The room was dim and dusky, draped in such a dark gray it was near impossible to see. It was a cold contrast to the summer that played upon the kingdom outside; black curtains blocked the sun from smiling through the windows, and the door was always closed. The clocks were stopped, the bed made.

A ghost of a woman sat in a chair, staring into her mirror, her back to the door.

Mark approached her, reaching out a hand to rest it upon her shoulder. “Do you feel better today, mother?” he asked, voice soft yet still strange in the solemn atmosphere of the mourning room. When she didn’t speak, Mark took the glass of water and knelt down next to the chair, pressing it into her hands, gently.

“Please,” he whispered. “Drink. Do it for me.”

After a long moment, the queen brought the cup up to her lips and took a long drink. Mark didn’t take it from her. There was more silence.

“Will you be attending the wedding?” the prince encouraged, voice stronger. “The subjects long for you to be at the masquerade ball. You’re still the best dancer in the kingdom. I’ve had to promise several friends that you would save them a waltz.”

The queen’s grip on the cup tightened; her son persisted. “It is no longer the time to weep and sigh over people who have left us,” he murmured. “It’s time to greet new people, and dance, and love, and be joyful.”

Mark saw his mother tense. She opened her mouth to speak, but, in the end, she said nothing. The queen bit her bottom lip before turning her head away from him. “You wouldn’t miss your own son’s wedding, would you, mother?” he prompted. “My coronation? Will you be there for that?”

When his mother still had no words for him, he pursed his lips. “Don’t waste away,” Mark begged. “You still have me. You still have your son.”

The silence and quiet voice of the prince that deadened the room was interrupted by three light knocks on the door. “Sir,” a voice carried into the royal chamber,“the Thane is in the solar, waiting for you.”

Mark sighed. “I’m sorry. I must leave. I have many things to prepare for.” He stood and pressed a kiss to her cold temple. “Please, eat. I wish to see you at my wedding. And if you can’t manage that, at least keep yourself well. I’m still here for you, remember that.” He walked from the queen as if he was wading through blood. 

The light that streamed in from the hall illuminated Mark’s figure for only a moment before the door was shut again. The mourning queen was left to her drawn curtains, and her memories, and the reflection of a sad woman she didn’t recognize.

* * *

The life of royalty was constant worries, business, and keeping everyone happy. Mark felt inevitable exhaustion sinking into his young bones as he hesitated entering the solar where his friend waited. He hadn’t meant to frighten Wade earlier. The prince had to learn to filter his speech.

Composing himself, Mark entered the solar. Wade was sitting at the table, flipping idly through a book. When he heard the door close, the thane snapped it shut and stood. “Mark, I need to-”

“Wade, I’m sorry,” the prince interrupted, and his friend was quiet. “I’ve been so...frustrated. First my father. Now...now Tom.” It still hurt to speak of his brother. It hadn’t even been a month since his passing, and everyone was already so eager to move on. “Now I’m going to be married in two days, crowned before the week is over. I don’t want either of those things to happen. I feel trapped. But...”

Mark thought of Jack, and his inspiring words. He thought of his subjects, and the people in the kingdom who needed a leader. “But I know that it’s something I must do. I’m needed. I can’t be a selfish prince any longer. I must be there for everyone else now.”

Wade came forward, a small smile gracing his lips as he placed his hands on both of his friend’s shoulders. “You’ll be alright,” he assured. “You’re a Fischbach. You were born to rule.”

The prince pursed his lips. “Oh, I hope you’re right, Wade. I’d just like to continue with my daily rides. Alone, as always.”

The thane took his hands away, shaking his head. “It’s not prudent, Mark. It puts us all on edge.”

“Yes,” Mark knew,“but it clears my head. It gives me peace of mind, and confidence, so...I'm sorry. I will continue to do it. I’ve...met a friend on my rides, who I speak to.”

“That Jack fellow you were looking for earlier today at the lake?”

“The same. I...I’m going to invite him to the masquerade ball,” the prince announced. “He has a way with words that I mean to put to good use. He’s an excellent friend; I want you to meet him.”

Mark saw his thane building walls in front of his emotions to protect them, to hide them. “Will...this Jack...will he be your guest of honor?”

The prince paused, realizing that he was putting too much faith into a man who was more or less a stranger. Wade had been his faithful companion- not servant, nor underling- since the two of them were small children. “I...” he replied carefully,“I don’t think so, no. I’m only inviting him. He’s not the only friend I have.” The prince flashed the thane a knowing smile.

The walls more or less collapsed, and Wade said,“Ah. Well, in any case, I’ll be happy to meet him at last. And...there are two more people Felix wanted me to introduce you to.”

Mark furrowed his brow in confusion, wondering why there was a need for two new strangers in the castle. “Who? Are they here?”

“The office has personally assigned two guards to your person,” Wade explained without beating around the bush. Mark opened his mouth to speak, to protest, to anything, but the taller man pressed on. 

“They’re knights and lords, Mark, and the entire kingdom is entrusting them with your life. They’re extremely competent- their names are Sirs Dan and Arin. They will be by your side in the castle at all times. Felix...” Wade pursed his lips and shook his head. “Felix...has persuaded me to allow you to enjoy your daily rides independently, so don’t argue with me. You said you wanted to keep your people happy, and this is how that’s going to happen.”

Mark lowered his gaze, at least glad his visits to Jack would be the same. He let out a long, suffered sigh from the bottom of his lungs and ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. Alright,” he agreed, wishing to leave the room that grew ever-darker in the fading light of the evening. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Mark locked eyes with Wade. “I trust you and Felix. I really do.”

Wade smirked. “I know.”

The prince laughed and clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I suppose that’s fair as well. Come on, share a meal with me, Wade. I’ll be a married man in two days time. And soon I’ll be king! You’d better watch yourself then!”

He and Wade were laughing as they left the room.

* * *

The night was dark and filled with bright lights, torches, lamps, and candles slowly dying as the castle stayed up, planning and chattering and toasting for the wedding that was coming too soon for all. Mark dined with Wade and his other friends, wishing him luck for his future life and celebrating the one he had at the present.

Two knights waited in the hallway, illuminated by nothing, only dusky silhouettes, side-by-side. Another shadowy figure stood in front of them, voice soft and nearly smothered by the jolly feast in the other room.

“You’ve been personally assigned to Prince Mark,” the third man instructed. “You know what this means.”

The knights didn’t answer. “Sir Dan.” The taller, lanky man bit his bottom lip. “Sir Arin.” The stockier one blinked once, twice. Both had shame in their eyes.

“You both failed me when Prince Tom died. Drowned before he was even wed! Do you both fail to see the point of what's even asked of you, _knights? Lords?_ ” The figure shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m entrusting you now with the prince, but that is what I have decided to do, out of the generosity of my heart.”

A happy roar of laughter sounded from the other room. The two knights didn’t move, or speak, as they were given a dressing-down.

“I am giving you another chance to do your jobs right. We will not have another repeat of Prince Tom’s fate. This time, you will succeed.”

“Yes, sir,” the two muttered.

“Let me explain to you two again what your job means,” the shadowed man continued. “You are Prince Mark’s personal guards. You follow him, you pay attention to him. You listen but you do not hear. You are always with him but you are never there.”

The shadowed man took a step closer to the two knights. “And,” he murmured with a smile,“when I say _‘kill the prince after the wedding’_ , then you do just that. Not _before_ the wedding. Not _during_ the wedding. If you want your rewards, you will not drown the prince before the princess even arrives!” His voice had turned into a quiet hiss, his smirk now a growl.

The knights didn’t move. No one in the other room could hear the conversation.

“This is your job,” the third one instructed. “Prince Mark will be wedded and bedded, as everyone is expecting. Once Princess Marzia is his wife, she will be the only one left to inherit the land after her husband dies tragically while out riding his horse, after the coronation.”

He leaned so close that the two knights could smell the food on his breath. _“Is that perfectly clear?”_

“Yes, sir,” repeated the men.

The smile returned to the third shadow, and he stepped back to his original position. “Excellent,” he applauded. “Now go do your jobs.”

Sirs Dan and Arin moved into the hall that was filled with a happy orange light, dining friends, food, and the laughter of Prince Mark.

They stood behind the prince and began their job.


	4. The Spell

Jack couldn’t think. There was a hole in his stomach that leaked dread and a sense of hopelessness into him.

He had swam around underwater for hours, unsure of how to solve his problem. He debated each angle with himself through the night and the next day before falling into a bitter, dreamless sleep that left him more drained than rested upon waking just before the sun peeked above the horizon.

He couldn’t bear to never see Mark again…but how would he react when he found out what Jack was? What other reason could Jack have not to ever leave the lake itself?

He had sunk out of sight when the other human had interrupted his conversation with the prince, and didn’t surface until the sun was just beginning to rise two days later. His anxious thoughts kept him in circles. On every other occasion, he would have been curious to spy on any other humans who wandered near his abode before sleeping.

But there was a decision to be made, and it was one that was risky. And either way, it could end in heartbreak.

Jack was aware that he had been arguing with himself for a short while after waking when he heard his name being called from the surface. That couldn’t be Mark…the prince had duties and plans. He was to be married soon. He never arrived this early. Jack made his way up and poked his head above the water so that only his hair and eyes were visible, seeking out the source of the shouting.

When his eyes locked on the owner of the voice hailing him, the merman popped up out of the lake, as joyed as he could be in his situation.

“Matthias!” he exclaimed.

The man on the bank of the lake grinned, opening his arms in a gesture of warm greeting. “There you are! Usually nothing keeps you from the air. What’s got you stuck in the lake mud?”

Jack deflated when he was reminded of his predicament, eyes large and despairing. “You’ll never believe me if I tell you.”

Matthias noticed that there was a true problem, and sat in the grass, not caring about the dew staining his robes. “Did someone see you?” he inquired. “Are you in danger?”

Before the merman could answer, another cry of “Jack!” came from the edge of the clearing. The two men turned their attention to a woman with long, inky black hair and robes similar to Matthias’s scurrying over to the lake through the lightening darkness of early morning. “What took you so long, Suzy?” the other human inquired, keeping the original conversation at bay. Jack wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for that or not.

“I found a new patch of sorrel near my house,” Suzy explained, out of breath as she sat next to Matthias. “It’s been too long, Jack!” she greeted. “How have you been?”

“That's what we were talking about,” Matthias informed her. “Something's wrong.” He turned his blue eyes on the merman. “Is that right, Jack?”

Jack gazed at his two friends. He had known Suzy and Matthias for several summers now. They were only aware of his existence because they were forced away from the human villages to live out their lives in the woods as mages. They practiced their magic in solitude, making potions, casting spells, and growing more powerful as they did so. The two sold their concoctions in disguise at the market, friends only to each other and the only other magical entity in the woods: Jack.

“Is someone suspicious?” Suzy hissed, demeanor immediately serious. “You can't trust humans from the villages, Jack. We told you before.”

“He isn’t from any of the villages,” the merman informed. “He…he lives in the castle. He said that he wanted me to visit. And he didn’t look like he wanted to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Oh, Jack…” Suzy muttered. “Did you think you could be friends with him?”

“He told me that I was his only friend,” he admitted. “He’s so kind. I don’t want to have to leave him.”

Matthias’s eyes were calculating, focused on the water, but Suzy’s were dejected, glittering with pity. “Sometimes we have to sacrifice things we love for life,” she murmured.

The merman’s expression hardened. “But I have almost nothing in this life!” he exclaimed. “I have a home I can never leave and two friends who I see once every blue moon! Can't you see that I’m trapped here? I want to visit the castle, and walk through the woods, and meet people from these villages you're always speaking of!” Jack shook his head at the two humans. “There has to be more to life than this lake, hasn’t there?”

Neither of the mages spoke. “Hasn’t there?” the merman repeated, voice softer, his rage leaving him.

There was a long, quiet moment where Jack sunk further into the water, disheartened that his fate was to float in a lake for eternity, his only two friends willing to watch him rot away in his home that doubled as a cage.

“Suzy,” Matthias spoke up at last, tone soft, hesitant. “You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?”

Suzy shut her eyes. “It would never work, and you know it. We aren’t skilled enough for a spell like that. Something could go terribly wrong. You know all this, Matthias.”

The merman perked up, intrigued with the conversation. A spell? Was it concerning him? Something to fix his complications? Jack wondered if it was for him or for Mark, and if he would approve of such a spell. He didn’t want the prince to forget him, or vice versa…

…but perhaps that was how things were destined to be.

“It couldn’t possibly be harmful,” the man argued. “The worst that could go wrong is in the case that nothing happens.”

Suzy wouldn’t hear of it, though. “It would never work. Why get his hopes up when his life may be on the line if this human finds out what he is and does something horrible?”

“Then we'll take care of the humans. We're strong enough to do that for our friend.” Matthias and Suzy gazed at each other, as if debating without words. “It's worth a try.”

Suzy didn’t answer right away, considering it. Jack chose to speak then, assuming that the conversation was referring to him. “Is there something that could help? If there is, I want to know about it!”

The woman sighed, brushing away stray locks of hair from her eyes. “Jack,” she began, turning to face him,“there is a spell that we know of that could…help you, in a sense.”

“In what sense?” the merman demanded. “I’ll try anything.” The male mage pursed his lips. “There are no guarantees that this will even work,” he warned. “The spell requires an immense amount of power that we don’t have.”

“What is it?” Jack inquired.

“This spell,” Matthias answered, eyes twinkling,“will transform you into a human.”

Jack felt his breath leave him. To become a human…to have his tail split in half in order to walk among the rest of the world. To be able to step out of the water, to join in on what Suzy and Matthias called 'normality’. To wear the glittering clothing that the sun adored, to be dry without feeling dizzy. To climb and explore and be _human_.

“You…you could do that?” Jack breathed, taken with the fantasy.

“Most likely not,” Matthias admitted. “The spell is very advanced, and difficult to cast. Even with two mages instead of one, there isn’t a good chance of success.”

“And even if we did somehow manage to make it work,” Suzy added,“it would wear off in a few hours. The transformation won't be pleasant, either. You weren’t made to walk, Jack.” The merman had thrown away what was and what wasn’t meant to be, however. “But you could try!” he insisted. He had seen the mages work magic before, and had learned that it gave him good fortune when he trusted them. They were skilled, even if they had yet to gain more power.

Matthias stood up, back straight. “Yes,” he answered. “If anything, we could try. Suzy, go get your equipment. We’re going to attempt this spell the best we can. For Jack.”

A short time later, Jack was wriggling with impatience as his two friends mixed together herbs with a mortar and pestle by the water. It was a tricky spell, helped along with a drink that was equally difficult to make.

“Nearly through with the potion, Jack,” Matthias called over, surely having sensed the merman’s anxiety. “We’ll be done before the break of day.” The sky was still mostly black, the air chilled, with light coming from the gray horizon of the shy sun and a fire Suzy had created after she had returned to the lake with her essentials.

Jack wasn’t sure what to say in his excitement. He had been promised that the chances of it working were next to none, yet he couldn’t help himself from twiddling his fingers and moving so much in the lake that the ripples forming around him didn’t cease. He trusted Suzy and Matthias to do something right. Something would happen, surely.

“Are you sure it’s ready?” Suzy inquired from the lake bank.

“Positive,” her friend affirmed, then stood and faced Jack. “Alright, Jack. You’ll need to stay at the edge of the lake now, so you’re right next to the bank.”

“Matthias,” Suzy warned. “It’s not going to work.”

“Just a precaution,” he said to her as the merman swam over to the grass where Mark always sat to talk to him. “Now, Jack,” the man instructed, handing him down a silver cup,“you’ll need to drink all of this. The more you drink, the more it will help the spell in succeeding.”

The liquid itself was viscous, a muddy shade of dark green, and smelled foul. Jack crinkled his nose as he gazed into the cup, wondering if this was some prank the two mages had cooked up for their own delight. But he knew that they weren’t fond of such things, and that it would be worth it if the spell worked, if just for a moment.

Jack brought the silver cup to his lips and began to drink. He nearly spat it up into the lake at first, but forced himself to down the vile brew, convincing himself that it would be worth it. For Mark.

Tears pricked at the merman’s eyes as the potion slugged its way down his throat, one gulp at a time. Through his blurred vision, he could see the stars above, glittering happily, though faintly, as the sky turned from black to gray. He called to mind the merpeople's philosophy on life and death: that everyone was a star, burning up on earth before returning to the vast blackness above upon death. He wondered if perhaps he and Mark were destined to return as stars, or constellations, if they were meant to burn out together as companions and always be remembered as such. He wondered when that would be.

The last of the noxious elixir slithered down past Jack’s tongue, and he savored the last few drops from the cup’s rim with repugnance. With the taste of the herb mixture fresh in his mouth, Jack held the cup out, and Matthias took it to set it aside by the fire.

“Now we only have one chance to do this,” the man reminded,“so we have to channel all of the energy we have in order to do it right.” Suzy moved to stand next to him, and the two mages faced Jack. Suzy held their spellbook in her arm, and they began to hum.

The note was unanimous until it wasn’t; discordant, the tones battling each other, then a harmony, then back down into mismatching notes. They knelt in the grass, eyes boring into the merman’s, sparking like a flint, like a flame. A wind picked up, chilling the three, but none of them could move anymore. The lake’s water lapped into short waves, the flowers around Jack twirled in a waltz that grew more frantic with each passing moment.

The voices of Matthias and Suzy multiplied into four, then ten, then sixteen. A chorus of magic sprung from the earth beneath them, whispered from the water, filled the forest with a song, a plea.

Jack found himself paralyzed. His tongue itched, his throat tightened, his fingers tingled. His stomach churned in an unpleasant way. The merman clenched his hands into fists and his vision faded in and out.

The mages silenced in one sudden moment. The fire went out and Jack’s discomfort ended.

It took a short time for Jack to realize that Suzy and Matthias were gazing at him expectantly. He looked down into the water, felt down below his waist to find a shiny green color, and smooth scales, and strong fins.

“Nothing’s changed,” Jack murmured, eyes glittering wetly in the milky light of dawn, the stars shining their last as they disappeared into the morning. “I’m not human.”

With downcast expressions evident as they stood, the two mages came forward to sit in the grass in front of their friend. Suzy placed a hand on Jack’s, opening her mouth to say something before thinking better of it. Her mouth closed. She didn’t speak.

The three friends were silent as the sun rose and they gray sky turned blue, as cloudless as the rest of the summer had been so far. It was perfect weather for a disappointed trio with a rain cloud to blanket them.

At one point, Suzy whispered,“I’m so sorry.” But it didn’t matter anymore. The spell had failed, and Jack would never leave the lake as he had been wishing for so long.

The sun sent the earlier chill away and dried the dew from the grass and plants. Matthias, Suzy, and Jack simply lingered, wondering what to do when the merman’s friend arrived for his usual greeting.

After two or so cramped hours of mourning over the botched enchantment, Matthias stood, stretching his bones. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he muttered. “We just weren’t strong enough. It wasn’t meant to be.” The merman gazed at the grass, a horrible pain twisting his stomach. He thought about Mark. His eyes felt warm.

“We’ll have to cast a memory charm on your friend,” Suzy apologized, unable to look at either of them. “For your safety. I…wish I could do more. I really do.” Jack’s throat became tight, and he didn’t say anything. The woman finally turned his way, eyes lidded in what could have been shame. “Matthias and I could stay here with you today. Would that help?”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He furrowed his brow. It was suddenly more difficult to breathe.

His throat was closing up.

The merman gasped, his air cut off. He grabbed his neck, clawing at it; dark spots began to dance across his vision and the feeling in his stomach grew worse. It grew worse. So much worse. Everything burned.

Firm hands grabbed his forearms, moving up to his biceps. Suzy. Holding him up. Voice high. Shrieking. Happy, maybe. Frightened, more likely. Jack wondered if someone could be happy while he was dying.

Dying. He was dying.

That potion he had downed, something in it was poisonous. There was something in it that Jack couldn’t handle, but humans or some other species could. The potion was wrong, it was toxic. Jack was dying. The taste in his mouth was only growing stronger, scorching his tongue and flipping his insides around.

The grass was soft. That didn’t stop it from burning across Jack’s skin and scales as he was pulled from the lake, dragged onto the bank. No, he wanted to say. He would dry up without the lake. He could feel the sun’s early rays taking away everything he needed to be drenched in to live.

There was no air. There was no water. Jack was frightened. Unconsciousness loomed. He tried to fight it off.

The blackness overcame him.

* * *

The afterlife was bright and dry.

A whiteness surrounded Jack when he opened his eyes, powerful enough to force him to squint. Blink. Huddled masses were above him, next to him, whispering.

Jack breathed.

Two pairs of wide eyes gazed down at him. “Jack,” a faraway voice called. “Jack, get up.”

He blinked in rapid succession, confused. “What?” he croaked. “Have I…?”

Shaking fingers found Jack’s temples, and more words were whispered from all around. The fuzziness inhabiting his mind was sucked away as a tingling buzzed just behind the merman’s skin where the hand pressed down. The white light faded, replaced by a blue sky, a yellow sun, and two familiar faces hovering above.

“He should be with us now,” Suzy was saying. To Jack, she asked,“Are you feeling better? You scared us.”

The merman’s mouth was dry. The feeling of grass itched at his bare skin. “I thought…I thought that I died,” he confessed. 

Jack remembered then the silver cup, the fire, the stars…Mark. The taste of herbs stuck to his tongue. “None of it worked,” he lamented, voice rough. “The potion. The spell. It wasn’t strong enough, was it?”

The eyes of the two mages shone then, and neither breathed. “Jack,” Matthias whispered, shaking his head. “We…we…”

Jack let out a long breath of air. He had been told not to get his hopes up, and it had landed him in a pit of disappointment. He shut his eyes, clenching them. He had never wished for anything harder than this. He shouldn’t have thought…

“Jack,” Suzy breathed. “Sit up.” She and Matthias were tugging at his shoulders, insisting in every way. “You must- you must-”

Still dizzy from the lack of air and painful aftermath of the potion, Jack allowed his two friends to help him sit up. He shut his eyes at the queasy feeling he was met with, combined with the brilliance of the sun, still climbing up the sky as the the middle of the day grew closer. Mark would be around soon, thinking he would have a friend to bring to his wedding. Instead he would have his memory wiped, and Jack would never be able to see him again.

“Suzy…” Matthias whispered. “I can’t…I don’t think I can…”

“Me neither,” the female mage breathed.

They were expressing doubts about performing magic on the merman’s only other friend, Jack realized. They cared about Jack, of course, and wanted him to be happy. But they also wanted him to be safe. Jack pressed his face into his hands, waiting for the fateful moment the prince would arrive to see the last of his friend in the lake.

“Jack!” Suzy cried. “What are you doing? Look!”

With sudden emotion, he tore his hands from his eyes to ask what he was supposed to be looking at.

Jack felt his breath leave him.

In front of him, sprouted from his waist, weren’t scales, or a tail. There was skin. Legs. Two legs. 

Human legs.

Gray cloth was wrapped around them, baggy and too long, held together with shiny buttons, they were called. He wiggled the fingers he had at the ends of the - his - legs. The grass tickled them in the wind. His torso was bare, as it always was, but he was dry. Dry. Jack had never been dry before.

Matthias began to laugh. “It- it worked. It worked!” he whooped. He and Suzy stood and hugged, giggling and cheering.

Jack couldn’t stop staring at the fleshy things protruding from him waist. He was…human. Human. “Can…can I stand?” he croaked out, wondering how he had managed to speak at all with the shock. “Can I…walk?”

Matthias leaned over and clasped Jack’s hand, pulling him up. The grass teased his new skin, sensitive, soft, unused to any feeling, except perhaps the touch of water. As soon as Jack stood, beginning to understand how this and walking worked, his knees buckled. He fell straight into the mage’s chest, blushing and attempting to lock them again. But they wobbled still, as strong as seaweed.

“It’s alright,” Matthias assured, moving to support his friend in a less awkward fashion that was equally more effective. “Your legs won’t be too strong at first. I can give you a pair of crutches to help you walk so you don’t look like…well,” he smirked,“a fish out of water.”

“I’m expecting him here soon,” the new human warned. “The prince. What do I need?”

The crutches were not too comfortable, as they were fashioned purely from wood and had no cushioning to speak of, but they were sturdy and nearly of the right height. Jack practiced his balance on them, swinging himself back and forth in front of the lake until he could pass it off as walking.

Matthias had allowed the former merman to borrow a tunic and pair of simple shoes in addition to the pants. They were certainly not fit for a ball, but they were what was available, and they fit the part of “peasant living next to a lake” very well.

“You look wonderful,” Suzy complimented. “I’d believe it if you told me you had been born human, Jack.” She handed him a satchel then, and explained the contents. “If the spell wears off too soon, there’s a potion in there that will keep others from noticing you, and a cloak to disguise you as well. And if you begin to change back and you can't return to the lake in time, there’s a whistle in there for you to blow. We’ll hear it and come straight away.”

Jack smiled and adjusted himself so the satchel hung across his chest, resting at his hip. “Thank you,” he said. He was breathless. “Both of you. For- for everything.”

“Don't mention it,” Matthias assured. “We’ll be off now, though. I hope your night is full of wonder, Jack!”

Jack prayed to all the gods that it would be.

Suddenly exhausted, Jack moved to sit himself underneath an oak tree that he had always used to judge the seasons with. Its leaves bloomed a perfect green each spring and let them flit away blood-red each autumn. He let his crutches lie beside him as he thought about the rest of the night. There wasn’t a thing wrong with his plan, except for the fact that the spell could wear off at any moment, and it was still afternoon, judging by where the sun rested above him. It could very well last only until early evening. Maybe-

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice from the tree line, calling his name. The former merman perked up, his heart racing like never before.

It was the prince, walking towards him, a strange expression on his face. Jack took up his crutches and, using the tree to help him stand, limped over to the man.

“Mark!” he greeted. “Aren’t you going to be married tonight?”

“Yes,” the prince answered. “But I came to invite you again, at least to the ball. I see that you’re out of the lake at last.” Mark’s eyes were on the crutches, then, and Jack realized that perhaps it wasn’t common for humans to use them, or worse, even seen as a nuisance.

“I...my legs aren't exactly perfect for dancing,” he apologized. “I wouldn't make an great guest at a ball.”

The prince shook his head “Don't talk like that!” he insisted. “It’s my wedding, and if you're invited, then you'll be an excellent guest simply by being there as yourself!” Mark rested his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I brought you a horse to ride back to the castle.” He glanced behind the man. “Do you have a family to come with? A wife? Parents? I would love for them to come, too.”

Jack pursed his lips. “Er, no. Just me.”

“Well,” Mark joked with a smile,“that at least makes it easier for me to transport you there. Let’s get to the castle, then. We’re going to have a fantastic night. I just know it!”

With a grin, Jack followed the prince, his friend, to the night that awaited at the castle in the distance.


	5. The Plan

“I’ve said so once, and I’ll repeat myself as many times as I need to- we should be paid in advance. Bargain with the man! We aren’t-”

“Pawns in some strategical game, yes, I know,” Sir Dan sighed as he donned his chainmail. The prince was due to return from his daily ride soon, and the two knights would be back at his side as twin shadows, waiting for the right moment. “But we've already accepted this job. I, for one, don't plan on turning away from it on the day of the wedding.”

“Yeah, well,” Arin huffed, “if we had bargained first thing when we were asked to target the elder prince, it wouldn't have mattered that we had acted too soon. We would have a bit more to be thankful for. Instead, we're barked at for not getting the job done correctly and given nothing in reward.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And what’s worse, he's asking nothing less than perfection from us, even more so than last time!”

Dan shut his eyes. Day and night brought the same complaints from his companion, with no rest on the ears of the taller one. And though the points he made were valid, they had been exhausted to the point where Dan would rather shut himself away, just as the queen herself had done, than listen another moment longer.

At least they both were tactical enough to remember something that was asked of them: If either Dan or Arin were to speak of the plot assigned unto them, they weren’t to speak the name of the man who was paying them, the man who was at the head of the entire operation. His name was never to be said in such context, lest someone was listening in.

Dan was surprised neither of them had slipped up in that area as of yet. It was quite easy to say something you were not supposed to. But to drown a man a week too early...well, that was quite a mistake, indeed.

Thinking upon it presently, the taller knight wondered how much persuading it had taken the other members of the castle to allow Sirs Arin and Dan to remain as the personal royal guards after they had apparently failed to save the eldest prince from an assassin in the night. He didn’t blame their employer for being so cross with them the other evening; they must have put the plot in serious jeopardy.

Arin was still speaking, shaking his head as he cleaned his armor. “These Fischbachs are much-loved amongst their people like I've never seen before,” he went on to explain. “The prince dead for a week, the king dead for two- and now the youngest of the two sons is about be wedded, bedded, and crowned, but every peasant still refuses to take off their black cloaks.” He paused in polishing his plackart. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to point fingers. Join together, start something dangerous. Their precious rulers have begun to drop like flies…I would be suspicious, for sure.”

“No amount of weeping peasants will keep me from getting payed what I rightly deserve,” Dan sighed. He pulled his hair from his face to tie it back with a ribbon. “Fischbach or not, Prince Mark isn't immortal.”

“The princess surely knows that,” the other snorted. “Beautiful as she is, her ambition is deadly. She’ll stop at nothing to get the man she wants.”

“I pray that they’re both excellent actors, both the princess and our employer,” the taller man huffed. “Eye contact shows too much between two people. I’m sure that he'll ask her to dance, too-”

“If our employer asks her to dance, it'll be seen as polite,” Arin assured. “But I agree with you. They should keep away from each other as much as possible. With two deaths in the family, and one so soon after the other, it's easy for people to become suspicious.” He shook his head. “One wrong glance…and we could be put to death.”

Dan eyed his friend. It was often that his complaints sounded far too uneasy for his liking. Arin had taken some persuading to cooperate with the plot put towards them, but after that, the only other option was death either way. With knowledge of the plot came difficult choices. Refuse, and your throat would be slit. Agree, and you would be monitered at all times, and found dead at the bottom of a tall tower if even a thought of betrayal was suspected to be on your mind.

And, of course, a public execution would be inevitable if one of the assassins of half the current royal family was to confess to his crimes. Dan knew that, despite the armor and title of Lord, Arin feared death perhaps more than anything else in the world.

“I’m sure he’ll take his own advice,” Dan went on. “Be like us when around her. As if he’s not there, though he sees her and hears all of her words. Then he can be content, yet discreet as well.” He coughed. “Our employer is well aware of the risks. Capital punishment is nothing less than assured if even one mistake is made.”

Arin didn’t speak right away after that. When he did, he changed the subject. “Where do you suppose the prince rides off to everyday? Must be important if he insists on going alone.”

“My guess is some poor woman who will be forgotten as soon as she was found,” his friend tsked. “If he goes out everyday as he’s been doing, he’ll have an heir before he can bed Princess Marzia.” He smirked, and Arin barked out a laugh before choking on it; he turned his head to cough. Dan turned to him in question.

Arin stared. “You suppose that this is where the prince goes off to?”

The other knight furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. I only suppose. It was just a joke, Arin.”

“But it could be possible?”

“What are you-” Dan began to question, but the other lord stood, setting aside his armor haphazardly. He stood himself in front of his friend, just an inch or two shorter.

“Imagine this,” Arin insisted, trying to keep his easily-excited self quiet with varying success. “Prince Mark takes himself away into the woods, no company, no explanation. He's mourning; everyone brushes it off as such. Now do some supposing, as you were a moment ago!” He bit his lip. “Suppose, as you said, that he meets a lady. Some peasant woman who takes away his troubles for just a little while. Who’s to say that he isn’t expecting any heirs, Dan?”

The taller man was still as a board. The joke had suddenly become a sickening reality. He knew what had to be done to the woman and child, born or not, if this was the truth. Their employer would let no one take away the throne from him. Not so soon to victory.

“The people won't be happy if we execute an expecting woman without a shred of evidence,” Dan said. “Who knows? She might be as beloved in the village as Prince Mark is from his castle.” He clenched his fists. “We’ll...we’ll ask our employer about it. If it’s true...then we must do as he asks. Whatever he asks.”

In both men’s heart of hearts, they knew exactly what their employer would want of them, and how they would have to deal with the threat of a potential heir. Just like the king, his throat pierced, bleeding out into the forest grass, and the elder prince, so peaceful from his watery grave of the courtyard fountain.

“I don’t like it,” his friend admitted.

“It's risky,” the taller knight agreed, but Arin interrupted him.

"You don’t see how the peasants who come in look at everyone in the palace,” his friend argued; Dan had never heard his companion sound as far away as he did now. “You don't notice. You’re so hellbent on your reward that you don't see the gloom and suspicion in their eyes when they're summoned to speak with the prince, when they leave him and return to their lives, knowing that he may be next-”

Dan slammed his hands down on the bureau and turned to the knight sitting on the bed. “He _is_ next!” he snapped. “That's our job! Have you forgotten yourself, Arin? Listen to what you're saying!”

He moved forward, shoulders raised, voice lowered to a whisper. His eyes betrayed him, however: They shouted all of his doubts, all of his fears, as if he were speaking them out loud. “You make me out as a villain when you have agreed to the very job I am to finish alongside you!” He leaned down to meet his friend face-to-face, to plead with him. One hand gripped Arin’s shoulder like a vice.

“Arin,” he whispered, eyes begging his friend for the answer he wanted,“will you finish this job with me?”

Sir Arin couldn’t pull himself away from his friend’s eyes; both were apprehensive, frightened. Arin’s eyes flicked to Dan’s hand. It hovered over the dagger in his scabbard.

Arin knew what would happen if he gave the wrong answer. And if Dan didn’t, their employer would.

The shorter knight shut his eyes. “Yes,” he replied. “You know I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this isn't quite as long as the last chapter, but it puts everything into perspective with Dan and Arin, at least. Plus it adds more depth to the plot put forth by the employer, so it's not so vague anymore. The next chapter will have much more to it.


	6. The Ball

Riding the creature became easier the further into the forest Mark and Jack traveled. A horse, it was called. _Ugly, but useful,_ Jack supposed. He turned his attention to his surroundings, instead.

The trees were much more beautiful up close. The bark was rough and detailed, the roots curving, the leaves dappled in the summer sunlight. Birds twittered above them in little groups, flitting from branch to branch. The flowers grew from the healthy grass and waved at him in the slight breeze; several petals were lost to the wind and were swept away around Jack. The former merman couldn’t help but smile at the beauty of the world outside the lake.

An orange plant swayed at the two; Jack recognized it as calendula. Matthias and Suzy used it for ointments and the like. They had shown him flowers, leaves, and herbs that grew around his lake that had healing properties, should he need them, and had tucked away a small stock of other helpful herbs that he could use to make salves and potions if the need should ever arise. He had taken it from its hiding place and put it in his satchel before the prince had arrived.

“The entire kingdom’s invited to the ball after the marriage ceremony,” Mark spoke up, interrupting the silence of the trip. “Will there be friends of yours there from the village?”

Jack bit his lip. “Er...no. I don’t live in the village.”

The prince laughed to himself. “Where, then? In the lake?” The former merman found himself laughing as well, just to prove that the notion put forward was ridiculous.

“No, of course not,” Jack assured. “I live in a small mill in the woods, with a large garden on one side.” He remembered the lines he had been given by Suzy and Matthias. “I’m an apothecary. I sell medicines at the market, but I doubt anyone would recognize me. It’s...I...I don’t own a horse, and walking is out of the question, so I have two villagers tend to my shop while I stay with my garden.”

“Ah,” the prince said. “Well, I give you all the luck of the mermaid that your garden flourishes for years to come, Jack.”

If Jack had been walking, he would have stopped right in his tracks. “Mermaid?” he echoed. “Do you...have mermaids at the castle?” Maybe he wasn’t the only one. Maybe...maybe there were more of his kind, in a lake or sluggish river at the castle, living together with the humans-

The prince chuckled. “No, no. There hasn’t been a mermaid in these parts for years. It’s been customary for centuries for the ruler of this kingdom to keep good relations with the mermaids. There used to be tons, living in the lakes, the rivers, the sea by the cliffs...they were close friends with the royalty and villagers.”

Mark pursed his lips. “But the last one died out with my great-grandfather. My father used to tell me stories of young mermen splashing in the waters with him when he was young.”

He reached down and took a small sack from his side, holding it up for his friend to see. The glitter of gold against a lovely dark turquoise etched out the image of a mermaid, her hair flowing about her like a halo. “Our sigil is a mermaid. It’s said that they bring good luck, especially if a good deed is done towards one of them. So we hope that the image of one will help out just as well.”

Jack found himself smiling despite himself. “I think...that the entire kingdom will have the luck of the merpeople as long as you’re king, Mark.”

The prince replaced the sack with a grin. He seemed more at ease now than he had been when talking about his wedding. “I...uh, thank you. I’m trying to keep my head on my shoulders. It’s been difficult,” he admitted,“but I’ve been more optimistic lately. My people need me, even if that means getting married to someone I don’t know.”

Jack thought for a moment before declaring,“It’s noble.” Mark turned his head to eye him, and the former merman continued. “Giving up some of your freedom in order to keep the kingdom stable. It’s a noble cause, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“Haha!” Mark crowed. “That makes it sound pretty chivalrous. I’ll think of like that from now on.”

His spirits lifted, the prince sounded more at ease when he spoke of the wedding. “I’ll meet my fiancee for the first time in front of the church. That’s where we’ll be married. I’m sorry, but you can’t attend- the wedding’s private. But I’ll have a tailor fit some clothing for you while you wait for us to come back to the castle. Something nice for the ball later tonight.”

Jack imagined himself in the rich clothing that Mark wore, the jewels sewn in and lined with gold that glittered in the sun of early summer and gleamed over the lake’s cool waters and swimming flowers. He felt a smile ease onto his face at the thought, and said,“Thank you, Mark. Really, you’re too kind.”

Mark shook his head. “We have more jewels and riches than we know what to do with,” he scoffed. “So tailoring a few items and sewing in some fabrics to match your eyes and all that is no skin off our backs, believe me. And besides, I’m happy to do it for you, Jack.”

A change came over the prince’s eyes, and Jack gazed at him with curiosity. “You...” Mark admitted,“you’ve done so much for me. I want to return the favor in any way that I can.”

The mood switched back before the new human could ask exactly what Mark meant, and he continued to talk,“The wedding ceremony’s simple enough. We’ll be outside the church. I stand on one side, and the princess stands on the other. Then we exchange rings, say our vows, and that’s it.” He shrugged. “We’re married. I’m king, and she’s queen. Well, not technically, until the coronation, but, you know.”

The trees suddenly opened for them; the sun hit the two travelers as the woods ended and a massive wooden gate loomed above them. Voices carried over it and the fence of metal that sported spikes on the top.

“Here we are,” Mark announced, smiling at the wide-eyed gaze of the peasant. “These are the castle gates.”

They trotted up to the guards on either side. “I’m here with a guest,” the prince said to them. “Open the gates.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The sight of the castle itself was so impressive that it nearly knocked Jack off his horse. It was made of a melancholy but beautiful gray stone, flecked with a silver that reflected with the sun’s rays. It was as tall as it was spacious, with dirt paths leading to a cool cobblestone courtyard where people strolled by the large fountain, the water coming from a statue of a mermaid in the middle. The land itself was clean and well-kept. The grass seemed to be greener than the lake’s, the trees seemed to be taller, the sun seemed to be brighter.

“Welcome to the castle,” Mark said.

Jack shook his head, his lips curving into a smile. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed.

“I’m glad you like it,” the prince replied. “It’s not as peaceful as the lake, but it’s home for me.”

Jack locked eyes with Mark. “I think it’s wonderful!”

The true human beamed. “Wonderful!” he repeated. He swung his leg over the side of his horse and dismounted, his shiny black boots thumping on the hard dirt path. A stable boy was at the ready with the reigns of the prince’s lovely mare to take her away.

Jack followed Mark’s lead and put all of his strength into swinging his leg over to the left side of the saddle; he succeeded, but nearly fell backwards when his other leg gave out. A strong pair of arms held him steady.

“I’ve got you,” a light tone chuckled. Jack’ ears burned crimson, but he allowed Mark to guide him down to the grass. The raven-haired man already had the crutches, and handed them to his friend for support.

“Let’s head inside,” Mark said. “We need to begin preparing.”

* * *

Jack gazed in absolute wonder.

After a significant amount of time sewing, altering, shortening and narrowing, and adding intricate colors and designs that the former merman had never even seen before, the royal tailor had presented him with a long mirror to gaze at his new clothing.

He had never seen anything so gorgeous. The doublet (as the tailor called it) and sleeves were gold and silver with intricate black patterns outlined in a blue that matched Jack’s eyes. There was a black strip tightened around his narrow waist; the dark color matched the close-fitted pants and boots. The shoes had been shined impeccably; they could have been smooth pebbles on the floor of his lake.

“I hope it’s to your liking, sir,” the royal tailor said, clasping her hands in front of her.

“It’s perfect,” Jack responded, doing his best to stand up as straight as possible on the clunky crutches Matthias had given him. “I love it. You did an amazing job.” The tailor was an elderly woman, short and broad, with a long nose and fluffy white hair, like a cloud. Her smile was small but kind, and her cheeks were rosy.

“Thank you, sir.”

 _Sir._ Jack had never been called _sir_ , as if he were somehow better than this person who had just worked half a day for him. It gave him a sick sense of power. Merpeople weren’t about power. Jack had been raised to be one with all of his peers, humans, and nature. “Er...not sir.” The former merman winced. “Just Jack, if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish.”

After another minute of admiration towards the clothing, there was a knock at the door. When called, a tall man with dark hair and a wild beard entered, carrying two crutches. They were thin, gracefully made. The wood was smooth, a light chestnut color, and padded on the top for comfort.

The man nodded his head in greeting. “You must be Mark’s guest,” he presumed. “I’m his Chamberlain. It’s nice to meet you.” Jack smiled in return.

“Ken, I’m so glad you’re here,” the tailor spoke up. “Are they back yet?”

“Prince Mark and Princess Marzia haven’t returned yet, but there’s a growing crowd of people making their way here from the villages.”

Evening was setting in as the Chamberlain was speaking, the sun dipping low behind the trees. Jack felt himself grow anxious; he had no idea how long the potion would last. He was amazed that it hadn’t worn off yet. He didn’t know how he would be able to escape down flights of stairs and through half a forest if the transformation took place when he wasn’t prepared.

“I’ll be off, then,” the old woman announced with her little smile, then bowed her head to Jack. “I hope you have a good time tonight. I should be on my way before the celebrations begin. I’m too old for balls and parties.” She bowed her head to Jack. She shuffled to the door, waving farewell to the two men.

“Don’t talk like that, Shirley,” Ken joked. “I’d love to dance a saltarello or two with you!”

The tailor chuckled at him before leaving.

Jack found himself transfixed by the waning day outside the window, wondering if he could get himself down the staircase and onto a horse before he began to change back. But, of course, there was now a crowd of well-wishers to navigate through as well-

“Sir,” the Chamberlain interrupted his thoughts.

Jack looked over to the royal servant. “Jack, please,” he supplemented. The other man took this in stride.

“Jack,” Ken corrected himself. “These are for you.” He walked forward and held out the gorgeous creations with both hands. He was close enough so that he could help replace the poorly-constructed crutches with the new ones.

The custom-made crutches were almost perfect. They were several inches shorter than Matthias’s, nearly matching Jack’s height, infinitely more comfortable, and less bulky by far. The former merman shifted to the right and moved the new crutches forward; they even supported him better. And so easy to move with, too!

“They’re wonderful!” Jack complimented after moving several feet away, in awe at what had been done for him. “Thank you, Chamberlain.”

The burly man smiled at the enthusiasm. “Just call me Ken. If you need anything at all, you can find me. Consider me a new friend, if you like. I like being on best terms with people.” He moved forward and gave Jack a firm pat on the back; if it weren’t for the crutches, his legs would have buckled. The new human gave the Chamberlain a sincere grin in appreciation nonetheless. He liked having Ken as a friend already.

The sound of horse hooves, rolling carriages, and chattering voices cut the moment between the two in half. “And that would be the guests,” the Chamberlain declared. “The prince will be back soon. I’d better get the guests inside.” He turned to his new friend. “Come on. Time to enjoy the ball, Jack.” 

* * *

Jack stood by Ken as the Chamberlain greeted the guests at the door and welcomed them into the hallway that led directly to the ballroom. The last of the day was disappearing, the sun too heavy to refuse the pull of the horizon. Jack smiled at the villagers as they entered. Some of them ignored him, others gave him and his crutches strange or pitying looks. However, many of them grinned back and dipped their heads to him. _So far, so good._

The river of arrivals lessened to a stream, then a trickle. “The newlyweds should be here soon,” Ken said to Jack. “You should join the guests in the ballroom.”

Jack felt his throat close up. He didn’t know anyone at the castle besides Mark and Ken. Would all the villagers stare at him? What if he was asked about his own life? Would they believe the made-up backstory he needed to maintain in order to fit in?

The Chamberlain noticed his apprehension. “Go on, I’ll join you as soon as the prince and princess arrive. You’ll blend right in! Better crutches than a plague, am I right?” He laughed at his own joke. Jack felt himself shake at the mention of a plague, but began the long trek down the hallway despite himself.

“Wait! Hold the door, please!”

Jack stopped himself to spare a look over his shoulder. He turned himself around entirely at the spectacle he found.

It was a young woman who was obviously dressed for the festivities, and she was running like hell towards the castle. Her dress was hiked up to her ankles to avoid tripping over it; her shoes scraped along the stone path; her teeth were clenched in concentration.

When she made it to the door, Ken held his hands out to stop her. “Woah, slow down there,” he assured as she leaned against the doorframe and panted ridiculously. “I’m not closing the doors on anyone.”

“I didn’t know...if Prince Mark had...arrived yet,” she managed to explain. Ken flourished a handkerchief from his breast pocket and gifted it to her with a kind smile. The woman thanked him and dabbed at her brow.

Jack hadn’t moved from his stance in the middle of the hallway. He remembered being awed by the clothes the humans had, how Mark’s doublet shimmered in the sun, how his own shone in the dim lighting of the castle and complimented his eyes, how Ken’s ruby necklace was set aflame by the torches of the hallway.

This was a different sort of sight. The woman’s hair was a soft gold, long; the top layer was woven into an intricate fashion of braids behind her head, and the rest flowed around her shoulders, like silk, like the soft light of a morning sunrise. She grinned and moved away from the door, having caught her breath, eyes sprakling with excitement.

Humans never failed to impress him. They had some sort of gift that allowed them to create and breathe beauty into what was around them, or pass it onto their children's hearts and appearances. Whatever god had crafted them had an attention to detail that Jack couldn't fathom; he'd be very disappointed if the potion gave up on him before he got to meet more of these curious creatures.

“Jack will show you to the ballroom, my lady.”

The former merman blinked and found Ken and the woman gazing at him. He realized then that he had been standing in the middle of the hallway, staring blankly in their direction for a matter of minutes. He straightened up, eyes on the young woman, and nodded.

“Yeah, you can, uh, follow me,” he stammered before smiling as warmly as he could; it felt more like a grimace. The young woman smiled back, though; it was bright and perfect and Jack lost his breath so quickly that he wondered if the potion had worn off for a moment.

“Sorry for running,” the young woman sighed when she was by Jack's side and they began to make their way down the rest of the hallway. “I know I looked ridiculous, but I’ve never been here before. I thought I’d be locked out.”

Jack forced himself to chortle in a light and friendly manner. “Mark isn’t the kind of person to lock people out, believe me.”

The woman didn't comment, and Jack panicked. Maybe he should compliment her, on her hair, her dress. Was that too personal, too intimate? Did humans usually keep their comments to themselves? He didn’t even know who she was. Jack wasn’t used to keeping his thoughts quiet.

“What’s your name?”

The woman turned her eyes up to meet Jack’s, her smile never wavering. “Signe,” she answered.

 _Signe._ Jack wasn’t sure what the correct human response would be. He tried his best. “I think it’s...lovely.”

“You’re quite the charmer,” she joked. “Are you the same person who was having a staring contest with the door a moment ago?”

 _Damn, she had noticed!_ Jack bit his lip as he swung forward on his crutches; the only thought on his mind was whether or not she and the rest of the guests would laugh at him if he asked her for a dance...whatever _that_ was. “Er...it’s a nice door,” he managed, voice nervous.

Signe placed her hand on his shoulder with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I was just kidding. I won’t tell the door.”

They arrived at the open doorway to the ballroom; they watched the village sway and laugh and eat in the warmth of the castle. The torches made the tapestries shimmer and the jewels of the wealthier folks come to life. A summer breeze whispered in from the open windows to cool the bodies of the celebrating; the evening was so perfect it could have been enchanted.

“I hope your wife doesn’t mind that you’re escorting me to the ball,” Signe spoke up over the ruckus.

“I don’t have...a wife,” Jack said, unsure of what that meant and the significance of it. Perhaps a wife was a parent, or a pet. Jack had kept a catfish as a pet when he was very young. A funny green guy, whom he had named Sam. He remembered never leaving his fish’s side, and vice versa, until the plague took Sam belly-up to the surface of the lake. “I hope no one here minds that I’m escorting you, unless you have a partner.”

She looked away. “No partner. Just me tonight. My parents are at home and my sister’s in the neighboring village until next week.”

“Well, I…” Jack had no idea how to go about this. He was the last of his kind, a loner in a lake, never having been on land before or seen so many people together at one time. Was it considered so personal to ask someone to spend a ball with you? He only wanted to get to know her better. Humans were so confusing. “So, you wouldn’t mind-”

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you!” A hand landed on Jack’s shoulder, and he and Signe looked to his left to find a tall man, dressed for the occasion in a blue doublet with the silver mermaid on the chest, a large smile on his face. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was at the lake once. I’m a thane of the kingdom.”

“Oh!” Jack recalled. “Wade! It’s great to finally meet you!” So far he had three people he could count on; it was all very exciting, meeting so many people at once, dressed so elegantly- and all so kind. The way these humans held themselves was lovely, the way they spoke was unique to each one person, and their clothing was complementary to all of their own colors, hair and eyes matching doublets and necklaces.

In the span of a moment, silence swept through the entire hall. A little man with a potbelly and thin mustache stood at the open door, his nose turned up.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” His voice was reedy and obnoxious, but it carried well enough across the room. “The prince and princess of Youtopia!”

A roar went up in the room as all the people of the kingdom cheered. Jack looked around and observed something strange- they were all hitting their hands together, all of them, drowning out any other sound. It must have been some human custom, to signify happiness, perhaps. Jack tried his best to mimic it.

It was then that, after a muted fanfare from two men on either side of the door holding brass tubes to their mouths, they entered.

Princess Marzia was nothing less than beautiful. Her long brown hair had been curled, let down to flow around her shoulders for the occasion, and her smile was ruby red as she gazed around the room. Her eyes fell on Jack for a split second, and he felt special somehow. Her dress was white, like snow, like sea foam, like a cloud, like lightning, like something so pure that nothing could stain it. She wore a wreath of yellow flowers about her head, the vines replaced with a dark, but bright, gold. Her necklace was a gold chain decorated by pure emeralds.

At her side was Prince Mark. His unruly black hair had been combed through, and he wore a white tunic and doublet, complemented with the silver outline of a mermaid on the breast, the sleeves held close to his wrists with metal cuffs the same color as the mermaid engraved with seaweed designs. His belt was brown, his pants gray, and his boots black. He, too, was smiling bright as the sun as he and his new wife were congratulated.

The newlyweds strode across the hall to the other side, where the elevated thrones sat behind a long wooden table, imitations of the ones in the throne room. Only after they stood before the hall did the noise die.

Prince Mark and Princess Marzia stood there, facing their people. The princess was perfectly calm; she was good at standing and smiling, it seemed. A flash of awkwardness could be seen on Mark’s face, and in his body language for a split second before he steadied himself.

“Let the festivities begin!” he cried.

The whole room cheered again before the music began, and the majority took a partner and began a dance around the room.

Wade and Signe lead the new human to the side of the room so they could observe the prancing people. Wade squeezed the other man’s shoulder when a lovely woman approached him and swept him off to dance. (“That’s his wife Molly, of course,” Signe said to Jack. “Their story is so romantic…”)

And he could have listened to her talk for the rest of the night and well into morning had another voice not cut in. “Of course, you must be Mark’s guest!”

The two abstaining from the saltarella were pulled into a conversation with another of the castle staff. He was Jack’s height, with blue eyes as well, but his hair was blond and slicked back, and he had a full, well-trimmed beard. His sleeves and doublet were a dark green, with the standard mermaid design on the chest, though sewn in gold instead of silver. His pants and boots were a solid black.

The man had one of the most pleasant smiles Jack had ever come in contact with. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said. “I just wanted to meet you.”

“Did Mark tell the whole castle about me?” Jack laughed; the tremor in his voice betrayed his true nervousness.

“No, no, just a few of his friends,” the man assured. “But Wade and Mark have talked about you enough for me to feel like I’ve already met you, you know?” Jack didn’t know, but he smiled and agreed anyway. He felt overwhelmed by emotions and people and what to say and how to say it; it was a strange but pleasant rush.

“I’m Felix...by the way,” the man in green added. “I’m the archduke of Youtopia. I’m really happy you’re here. There’s so much work to do in the castle with so much empty space...I like seeing our people here for a dance. Especially a good friend of Mark’s.”

Felix leaned his gaze over to Signe. “Is this your date for tonight?” he inquired. Jack opened his mouth, unsure of how to specify that he had been about to ask her for a dance (as clumsy as it would be), when she answered the quickest.

“Yes.” Her hand looped around Jack’s bicep. Felix smiled and returned to his original position of perfect posture, offering the same easy-going expression of an accepting smile and soft eyes that Jack had grown very fond of in such a short amount of time.

Another cheer went up as the music changed, and the three turned to find that Mark and Marzia had stepped out onto the floor. The prince bowed to his princess, took her hand, kissed it. Then they stood in conservative dancing positions, hands in hands, on waists, on shoulders; she smiled in delight, he in anxiety before they both began to move with the music.

Mark shouldn’t have been anxious- he danced wonderfully. Both he and his bride were graceful dancers, swirling around each other, orbiting the room. Jack smiled at the sight of his friend from across the room, pushing himself up on his crutches to get a better look through the crowd of villagers that surrounded the newlyweds. The music ended with a flourish, and the prince bowed to his princess a second time. Her smile grew and she kissed him on the cheek for the crowd to cheer at yet again.

From the circle of onlookers came Wade, who tapped Mark on the shoulder and gestured to Marzia. Mark grinned and backed away to retreat into the crowd. The thane bowed to the princess before they, too, began to dance before the onlookers.

“It’s customary for some of the king’s most trusted advisors to dance with the princess,” Felix said, his green doublet an emerald in the torchlight. “Once that’s done, the party continues.”

“Who’s going to dance with her tonight?” Signe asked.

“Wade,” Felix said,“Ken, myself, Sirs Dan and Arin, Charlie, and Cry.”

Jack didn’t know the last four listed, and said as much. “Dan and Arin are the prince’s personal guards,” the duke informed. “Ken appointed them himself, as Chamberlain.”

Jack gazed over the room, searching for men in exceptionally rich clothing. “And the last two?”

“Charlie is Earl to the villages farther south of here,” Felix continued, pointing to a shorter man with dark hair who sported ivory attire with the mermaid on his chest.

He turned Jack’s gaze to the corner of the ballroom. Prince Mark stood there, speaking quietly with a man in the privacy of the overbearing music, talk, and dancing. The man wore a navy blue cloak, the hood pulled up to obscure his face.

“Cry is the royal informer,” Felix went on. “Very secretive. Not even I know where he’s from. But he’s good for a drink!” he added with a smile and little laugh. “And Wade trusts him, so I trust him. Wade’s a good judge of character."

“I’d like to meet all of them,” Jack said; Signe agreed.

A new waltz began, and the trio looked over to the floor to see Charlie dancing with the princess, whirling to the villagers’ delight. The white dress spun around their feet, as swift and as elegant as snow in the wind.

Jack looked to the table where the king, queen, and other royal subjects would sit and found that it was empty. “Where’s the queen?” he asked Felix, pulling his eyes away from the entrancing princess.

The duke bit his lip, glancing away to where Mark was still speaking to Cry before answering. “She’s in her chambers. I don’t think she’s even going to be at the coronation. She’s been mourning for weeks, now.”

Jack knew all of this, but he hadn’t thought that she would miss a party, of all things.

The dances flew by one by one. Felix took his leave to have his turn with Marzia in the circle, and then Ken. Once that had ended, he pulled his wife to him and they began a new waltz. Another couple danced, too, and soon the circle had been filled in by jolly people twirling back and forth.

“Do you know how to dance, Jack?” Signe asked. The new human felt his face heat up. The answer was no, but perhaps he could fake it somehow…

The young woman laughed. “It’s ok, I’m an awful dancer!” Her smile was captivating. “But I’ll teach you what I know.”

Jack bit his lip, unsure of how this could possibly work without both of them looking like fools. He couldn’t see anyone else on crutches here at this dance; it was obvious to him that humans weren’t used to people who didn’t have perfect control of their legs. There weren’t even facilities for him to get from one floor of the castle to another. The stairs were the only path up and down. Jack had to be privately carried so that he didn’t topple down them.

So what about dancing? How did a person dance while on crutches?

Signe placed her hand on his shoulder, her grip firm and gentle at the same time. Her other hand went to his elbow, and she moved forward so that she stood between Jack’s crutches. They stood there, gazing at each other, and swayed back and forth before they rotated in a circle, the crutches staying the same spot as they moved. In a way, it was more intimate than the other couples who swirled around the room like falling leaves in the chilly autumn months once summer had burned itself up.

Signe’s eyes were a soft green, like leaves of a newborn spring, like pools of melted emeralds around a black sky. Jack barely noticed when the music ended. When he looked out the window, the sky was no longer bright from the setting sun, but pitch black, the torchlight of the road connecting the village to the castle blocking some of the duller stars.

“How long has it been?” Jack asked, both horrified and in wonder.

“Why does that matter?” The young woman inquired, not unkindly, only wanting to continue the long moment where they had been caught in a bubble of bliss.

Jack, however was lost in thought. It had been hours...nearly an entire day that he had been human! Matthias and Suzy had claimed that the spell would only last a few hours, and now it was the middle of the night after he had been changed early that morning.

He wasn’t sure whether to be elated or not. He felt his heart fill with something and weigh down into his stomach. On one hand, if he used this spell in the future, he knew that his friends were powerful enough to make it last for a long time.

On the other hand, given that Matthias and Suzy had guaranteed that the spell wouldn’t last long, Jack found it safe to assume that his time left at the ball was running out.

“I just- I have to be home soon,” the landlocked merman stammered, leaning on his crutches more heavily; he had no idea when he would change back, how much time he’d have to escape the castle, steal a horse, and make it back to the lake before he dried up.

A hand on his arm. “I understand,” Signe said. “Well then, let’s enjoy tonight for as long as we can! I’ll get us some ale.” He watched her go, wanting somehow to stop time and tell her everything- 

“Jack.”

The man was snapped from his ecstatic stupor to find the man in the blue cloak standing next to him, face obscured by the hood.

“Yes?” he responded before adding,“Sir Cry?”

The royal informer said only one thing. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Figure out who’s who before you continue down the path you’re heading towards.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow, about to ask exactly what that meant, but by the time he figured out the correct way to ask such a thing, the dark cloak was flurrying around the crowd of people, out of sight, out of reach.

“Is there something wrong?”

Jack turned his attention back to his lady, who had two cups of some potion. “No, of course not,” he replied. “What’s this?”

“Ale!” Signe beamed and handed him a cup. “It’s great, try some!”

Jack wasn’t familiar with human potions. “What do you drink it for?” he inquired, peering into the mug at the thin liquid. There’s always a use for something, was what he had learned from Suzy and Matthias. Alfalfa juice for hair growth, bayberry for fever, ginger for nausea and vomiting. He had never heard of _ale_ before.

Signe responded as if Jack had just confessed that he was the last merman in the kingdom. “It’s not for anything. You just drink it! It tastes good.” She motioned for him to drink. “Try it!”

The man brought the mug to his lips and took a sip; almost instantaneously, he coughed and spat it up. “That’s _not_ good!” he cried, voice ragged. “It burns!”

His cheeks burned as well when he recovered to find the young woman laughing at him. Was this a prank? “I’ve never seen anyone react like that to ale!” she whooped. “You’re supposed to enjoy it, Jack!”

 _Enjoy it._ That brought a spark to Jack’s mind. He looked down at the ale, then over to the stairs. “I just remembered,” he announced. “I have to do something, and quickly.” 

* * *

Jack knocked on the heavy door, unsure if this was the right thing to do. He wondered if this was inappropriate. Then again, Ken had taken him up here knowing full well what the plan was, so it couldn’t be unspeakable.

There was no answer. The new human pursed his lips before knocking again.

Again, no answer.

Jack glanced around before making his final decision. He pushed down on the knob and attempted to open the door. It moved in slowly, and he opened it the rest of the way.

The room before him was pitch black, save for the glow of a light on the left. When the door was completely ajar, Jack took in the scene before him.

The queen’s chambers were colorless. The bedsheets were black, as were the drapes covering the windows and the plain dress that hung off of her malnourished shoulders. She sat at a desk, her back to the door, a mirror in front of her. Her hair looked dry, as if it had been neglected for weeks and then suddenly washed once before being forgotten about once more. Two candles flickered in front of her; they were the only light in the entire room.

“Y-Your Highness?”

She gave no indication that she had heard anyone speak. Jack shut the door and crept forward, unsure of how to approach the prince’s mourning mother. “I’d...I want to ask for a dance with you, Your Highness.”

Her shoulders tensed visibly. The man bit his lip, wondering what would convince this woman who was so devoted to her deceased husband and son to give up the two candles in the dark room and have a dance or two for the night.

After a long moment of more silence, Jack moved forward again until he was almost directly behind her. He didn’t want to touch upon it, honestly. Some part of him was naive enough to believe that he could have lured her out of her chambers with promises of dancing and food and ale.

But that was all a dream. He had to really connect with her, and that meant talking when no one wanted to. Jack gazed at her reflection in the mirror, hopeful tone gone.

“I know how you feel.”

Her clasped hands clutched at each other as if trying to claw the other off of the wrist it was attached to. He understood. He understood this kind of feeling, and how it could consume you.

“I’ve lost people, too. I know how hard it is to give them up. It took me years to accept that nothing would bring them back.” Jack cocked his head to the side at the stinging memory of waking up alone in his lake for the first time. “My entire family’s gone now. I’m the only one left.” Too many to count. Too many. His mother. Father. Siblings. Everyone. He had been very young at the time, but he remembered. Much of it was hazy, as a young child’s memories always were, but he remembered what he needed to in order for it to hurt just as much.

Because the plague hadn’t just taken his pet from him.

“I’m alone because death took everyone I loved,” Jack went on, never having felt so cold before in his life. “So even though you want to be alone...I’m here, and I feel what you do.”

There was a moment where silence enveloped the room. Then, her movements stiff, like a statue come to life, the queen placed her hands on her lap and turned her head to gaze at Jack.

It was very quiet. He could see that her eyes were red-rimmed, from tears and from sleepless nights praying and mourning and thinking. The two candles made her black hair shine like new.

The queen opened her mouth. Closed it again. Opened it. Then, in a scratchy voice, she spoke.

“How do I dance?” she breathed, tone even. “How can I? When my husband is dead. When my _son_ is dead. How can I just leave them to be forgotten?”

It was a tricky subject. Stay and remember, honor the late loved ones and miss out on the events happening outside, or live in the present at the sake of looking disrespectful to the deceased. Jack knew the answer, though, and he knew how to convince her.

“The only thing more important than remembering the death of your loved ones is to celebrate the life that your son is still living,” he said. “And making sure that you don’t miss out on it before it’s gone. Because then you really will be alone.”

Jack waited for a reaction, but the only one he got was the heavy breathing of the queen. After more time in the dark, at the mercy of the silence, Jack realized that there was nothing more he could say. With a soft sigh, he withdrew from his tense state and turned himself to exit the room. He opened the door-

“Wait!”

The former merman stopped in his tracks and turned to look over his shoulder. The queen had stood from her desk, the candles illuminating her figure. “Wait outside my chambers,” she instructed. 

* * *

The back stairs that Jack used to save himself from embarrassment were located outside of the ballroom. The hand that the queen kept on Jack’s shoulder, though touching him lightly, felt at first like a tree weighing him down. The farther they walked together, the easier her smile became, and the happier Jack felt, and the less effort it took to feel her hand resting politely on his shoulder in place of linked with his arm.

Ken walked two steps ahead of them, shoulders back, chest out proudly. They strode down the hallway. Jack’s heart thumped in his chest. The hand on his shoulder tightened.

The door loomed in front of them, then around them as they stood just inside the room. Ken stepped forward, a spear in hand for the occasion, and struck the floor with it, once, twice, thrice. It boomed throughout the room, silencing every last dancer, feaster, and talker.

 _“Ladies and gentlemen,”_ the Chamberlain announced. _“Her Majesty, the Queen!”_

There were several audible gasps as Ken moved to the side and allowed Jack and the queen to step forward. The new human attempted to giver her the spotlight, but her hand stayed firmly on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

Mark stood up across the room, stock still in his shock before he pushed himself around the table and rushed through the crowd to stand before them.

“How…?” he whispered, eyes flickering from Jack to the queen, unable to believe the turn of events. “You’re...you’re here. You’re _smiling_!” Mark’s eyes were wet with barely composed emotion, and he moved forward, unsure of who to embrace.

Finally, Mark pulled his mother forward and hugged her, breathless, unwilling to let her go. The crowd _awww_ ’d and applauded quietly until they parted at last. The prince moved to Jack and hugged him as well.

“I don’t know what you did,” Mark whispered as they embraced,“or what you said, but I will never forget this for as long as I live.”

Jack let out a shaky breath and wrapped his arms around his friend. His chest felt light, as if he were a feather in the air, smiling, giddy like never before. He had never felt so full of life before, so loved, so full of happiness and joy.

When they moved apart, the feeling didn’t leave.

Mark moved to his mother again and called for music. Not a second passed before the strings and winds began to play, and the two were dancing around the room while everyone watched, the feeling in the room filled with more hope than ever before. Princess Marzia paused them only to curtsy to the queen, who did the same, and Charlie stepped forward to take her waltzing, too.

Jack watched, whole being happy. He barely noticed when Mark and the queen stopped in front of him, but then there were lips on his forehead, and the queen was smiling down at him, and Jack blushed bright pink. “Th-thank you,” he said quickly.

“Thank _you_ ,” the queen corrected, and went back to waltzing gracefully with her son. The sight of her dancing would make anyone envious; her feet pecked at the floor like a gazelle’s hooves, and her movements were precise and quick without a single stutter of movement.

The rest was a blur: Most everyone got a dance with the queen, though Jack only danced with Signe the entire night; Mark announced Wade as the guest of honor (“I’m glad it’s Wade,” Felix whispered to Jack,“he knows this castle inside and out. He knows everyone’s schedule better than Mark does. He has inside information on the people who give him inside information.”); Jack finally got used to the taste of ale, but found that it didn’t suit him well; Mark and Marzia welcomed the grinning queen at their table when she finally tired of dancing, their cheeks pink and smiles so wide they looked to hurt.

It was well into the night when Jack felt a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then a twitch in his left leg. He ignored it in favor of listening to more of Charlie’s jokes, laughing until his lungs ached. 

* * *

Dan and Arin stood stock-still, faces void of any expression.

“Do you see that man with the crutches?”

The knights both blinked at the same time.

“He’s a stranger to everyone in the village...but all of a sudden he’s best friends with the prince. Who’s to say he doesn’t have ulterior motives?”

Dan wanted to smile; at last, a scapegoat. He’d spoken to their employer about this very thing. He and Arin were new, followed the prince’s every move, knew his schedule, had the weapons and know-how to hide an obvious murder. Now they had an outsider to pin everything on.

But of course, he kept his grim outer exterior.

“We’ll go over this later when my...suspicions have been made clear to the rest of the prince’s advisors. Don’t worry- he’ll hang for your crimes.”

The two continued to keep watch at the table as the rest of the oblivious kingdom waltzed around them. 

* * *

Another twitch, this time stronger. Jack winced before freezing all movements. Charlie clapped him on the shoulder. “You alright?” he asked, voice the same monotone quality as always.

“Yeah…” he answered,“just...could you get my bag? I have something in there for nausea. Too much ale, you know?”

The earl smirked and nodded before heading off. Jack looked up and saw Signe’s head bobbing its way towards him and knew that his time for the night was up. He began swinging his way after Charlie, desperate to get out of the crowded room, though wishing it would never end.

Charlie was quick on his feet, and soon Jack had his bag in his hands, thanking the man and moving away, pushing through the people and fumbling through the bag of herbs and cloth for the potion, the potion, he needed it-

A horrid pain shot through both of his legs, and Jack would have collapsed, had it not been for an arm around his chest keeping him stable.

It was Mark. Of course it was Mark, the last person he wanted to see. “Are you alright?” the prince laughed, clearly not concerned. “Maybe you’ve had too much ale!”

The voices of the crowd were suddenly deafening, the torches were as bright as bonfires, and Mark’s presence was overwhelming. Jack’s head throbbed and he said,“Excuse me.” He swung his dying legs forward again, trying to keep them off the ground as much as possible.

“Jack, wait!”

For once, he didn’t listen to the prince; Jack kept moving until he was at the side of the room, ready to find the flask and down the potion. His legs cramped, now. It was more than just a pain. Jack felt an itch at his waist, felt the skin there begin to harden, felt his insides grow dry and desperate.

Water. He needed water.

There was no time to drink the potion now. He could see Mark moving towards him, calling his name. It would look so strange to rush out without explaining himself, but at the rate he was transforming, there was no time.

Jack panicked and stormed through the open doors, attempting to uncork the flask as he went.

“Jack, where are you going?”

The sudden shout frightened him. Mark was faster than he had anticipated. In his shock and in his rush, Jack’s fingers fumbled around the smooth glass, and it slipped from his hand, clinking as it hit the stone floor.

 _Only one thing left to do,_ he thought to himself. With a flourish, the cloak was torn from inside his satchel and tied around his throat with extreme haste. Suzy had promised him that it would disguise him, keep him from being seen.

The stable boy was just a few feet from him, then, and Jack threw the hood over his head for extra measure. “My horse!” he insisted. “Please, my horse!”

 _My_ horse sounded better than _a_ horse; sure enough, the boy rushed back to him with the mare he had ridden to the castle earlier that day, when the sun had nearly been as high as his optimism.

The changing human dropped the crutches and left them for the dirt. He had no time. With what strength he had left in him, Jack flung himself over the saddle, stuck his feet into the stirrups, and snapped on the reigns. The horse shook its head before racing away through the gates that had been left open for the celebrations.

Jack heard a single shout from behind him before he was surrounded by trees and foliage. 

* * *

Mark’s head ached like never before. The sounds of horse hooves and chattering voices as the last of the guests left into the blackness of early, early morning wavered up to the open window that he and his advisors had convened in.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me,” he insisted.

“Mark, we just want you to be safe,” Wade said. “If there’s any chance that he could-”

“Evidence!” the prince accused from the head of the table. “You don’t have any evidence! You can’t just go and accuse someone of something like this!”

The room was very quiet. Then, someone stepped forward.

“Actually, Your Highness,” Ken murmured. “We do have evidence.” He stood from his seat as if his body were very heavy and it was difficult for him to move. When he stood in front of the prince, he reached into his pocket and placed something small on the table in front of Mark.

“What?” Mark interrogated, voice barbed. “You found a bottle on the floor? He’s an _apothecary_! It’s probably for a headache, if it even is his!”

“It’s not customary for an apothecary to bring already-made medicines to a party, is it?” Ken challenged. “Your Highness, Charlie told me that he had an entire satchel with him. We don’t know what else could have been in it.”

Mark shook his head. “You still haven’t explained. What is so important about this?” He gestured to the bottle filled with the strange elixir.

There was another moment of silence. “Well?” the prince demanded, hoping that no one would answer and his friend would stay safe.

“Mark,” Ken said, voice quieter,“we think that it’s poison.”

The prince shut his mouth, pursed his lips, eyes on the clear flask. _Poison._ “How...how did you come to this conclusion?”

“We had the royal physician examine it,” Wade piped up. “He found traces of belladonna and hemlock. He’d never seen a drink like this before, but it’s safe to assume that Jack would know exactly what it was, and how dangerous some of the ingredients were.” He leaned forward slightly for effect. “The rest of us are agreed that he’s dangerous.”

Mark rubbed his eyes, then his temple. His headache had only gotten worse. “That could be some remedy, some painkiller for his legs! He’s on crutches, he was limping the entire night!”

“The crutches that he left behind when he stole a horse and ran off in the middle of the celebrations?” Charlie confronted.

The evidence before Mark was burying him. He looked around at his advisors, hoping that one of them would counteract everything with something that would clear Jack’s name for good. He needed something, anything...he prayed for a _deus ex machina_ to burst in and save the day.

There was a knock on the door. Mark’s heart flew out of his chest.

“Come in!” he called. This was it. This was the hero who would make everything right, who would clear everything up.

The door opened. The first person to enter was Cry, who walked right up to the prince. Felix walked in behind him, and shut the door.

Cry held Jack’s brown satchel.

“We found the horse from the stables abandoned in the middle of the woods,” the cloaked man explained. “This was with it.”

“And?” the prince inquired.

Cry opened the bag. From it, he took out several bundles of herbs, a metal whistle with a long string tied to the end, and...and…

And a dagger.

It was sheathed, and covered in black cloth to make it look like an extra shirt or tunic, but it didn’t diminish the fact that it was there, in Jack’s satchel, waiting to be used.

Mark stood, nearly overcome with sudden emotion. His advisors waited as the evidence in front of them was taken into account. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“The next time you see him...have him tossed in the dungeons for questioning.” 

* * *

The dark sky above glittered with starry jewels, and the leaves around the clearing fluttered like butterfly wings in the light summer breeze. They danced to the humming of one man, who floated and twirled in the lake, in love with everything he could see.

“Looks like someone had a good time.”

Jack’s smile only grew as he finished folding his new clothing into messy rolls on the bank of the lake. “Better than good,” he informed the two mages as they walked over to sit by the water. “It was…” He racked his brain for a suitable description. “It was...everything I hoped for, and more! Oh, it was beautiful!”

“I’m glad it was fun!” Suzy congratulated as Matthias re-folded Jack’s clothing. “Just remember to be careful. Don’t do anything drastic with this spell. We can’t do anything to make you permanently human. This is just for fun.”

“Warnings aside,” Matthias butted in,“do you have any more adventures planned for Human Jack?”

The merman beamed, his tail wriggling beneath the blue water. “The prince’s coronation is in two days. I was told that there would be another party afterwards.”

“We’ll get our supplies ready for the spell tomorrow night,” Suzy said, excited. “We’ll need a new pair of crutches for you, but otherwise we should be prepared. Are you ready to become Human Jack again?”

Jack’s grin reached his ears. “I can’t wait.”

The three friends talked on into the sunrise, laughing and joking, unaware of what Mark’s coronation would bring for them.


	7. The Coronation

Jack woke up once again to bright, perfect sunlight. The weather in the kingdom was impeccable- as if clouds couldn’t touch the skies, as if the kingdom of Youtopia wasn’t allowed to be wept upon.

He was in a daze, floating on top of the wind as it rocked him slightly from side to side, like waves in the bitter ocean. The merman could see it from where he was in the sky, and he searched the waters from above, looking for them...the ones who had left him behind...his people.

But why search? There was no need. They surrounded him.

Jack was still lying on his back, but now he was in his lake, and there were people around him, floating bonelessly in the water. _Merpeople._ Their tails were like his own, but all different colors, scales and hair shimmering in the sunlight that wafted through the lake waters. He called to them, waved, but their eyes were closed, mouths open in silent screams. And then his body went rigid and his blood ran hot, then cold, and then his skin shivered into snow and dissolved to mix with the rest of the water around him, and then Jack was just a few forgotten dust particles-

There was a hand pressing itself against his temples. “Jack!” a voice called.

The merman shot up into a sitting position. He wasn’t in the water. He was...in the grass. Right. Where he was supposed to be. The ground was hard beneath him, the product of a sunny, cloudless summer with no rain.

His friends were kneeling on either side of him. “Are you alright?” Matthias inquired. Jack nodded, breathless.

“Just...just a dream.”

Suzy’s eyes glazed over in a pensive way that made it clear that she wasn’t so sure of that solution. She bit her lip, her mage’s eyes sharp, boring into Jack as her mind worked on a hypothesis. “Maybe...but maybe not. The potion’s magical. It could’ve been anything. A premonition, a fantasy, a memory. Don’t throw it away so quickly, Jack. It could be important.”

The merman kept that in mind- well, former merman. The human legs that he had grown into just two days ago had returned with the spell from his friends, pulling apart his tail and replacing his scales with thin, sensitive skin and the wonky hands at the ends that Matthias called _feet_. Jack wondered if his friend was simply joking, or if that word really existed.

Jack was already wearing the worn commoner pants that he had sported after his first transformation; he had kept them in his bag during the ball, as well as his shirt, tunic, and shoes, and grabbed them from his satchel before he had dropped and abandoned it in the woods. The rest of him was bare, and he was happy with the new knowledge that his legs felt stronger than they had the first time he had transformed.

"Do you think I can walk this time?" Jack inquired, hopes high, eyes sparkling with wonder as he gazed at his human legs.

"Probably not," Matthias responded truthfully. This didn't stop Jack from clamping one hand on the taller mage and pulling himself to his feet, eager to conform into human society once again.

Unfortunately, the former merman was still subject to gravity, and was as unused to walking as ever, no matter how many daydreams he’d had about striding through the villages and vast halls of the castle, kicking his heels into a massive snowy horse and galloping to the rescue of a golden-haired true love. To Jack’s embarrassment, he leaned heavily against Matthias, who supported his weight with a sympathetic smile.

"It's alright," he assured. "Once those new crutches are done, you'll be mobile in no time!"

The reminder of the abandoned items only made Jack feel worse. "I shouldn't have left those crutches at the castle," he bemoaned. "Sorry. I know they were yours..."

"Jack, be quiet!" Suzy teased. "We thought about this from all angles. We were already making a new pair of crutches for you after you left for the castle!" She shook her head at him. "They're almost done, don't worry."

"Let's see how much more human you are since last time," Matthias challenged. "C'mon, let's take a walk!"

The thought of 'taking a walk' itself was exciting, however odd the turn of phrase proved to be for the water creature. Just as he’d guessed, it was easier said than done. The taller mage put one foot out and placed it back on the grass, like how Jack would see the other humans do; Jack copied the action- tried to, at least. He lifted one leg, but the other one lasted a mere second before wobbling and returning to its weakened seaweed state.

Jack growled at his inability to perform the most basic human task. A hand on his shoulder stopped him from over-thinking the challenge.

"Practice makes perfect," Suzy reminded him. Jack thought about this and nodded before taking another step, sweating with the effort of keeping his new legs stable.

By the time it was nearing midday, Jack was completely exhausted, sweating profusely in the abuse of the ever-beating sun. He flopped to the grass and rested, mopping his brow with a filthy handkerchief offered by the mages.

"You did great, Jack," Matthias lauded from his standing position, leaning over to hover his face above the merman’s. "You're really coming along as a human."

The spent man gave a breathy laugh, peering up at his friend. "Thanks! I think I'm...getting the hang of it."

There were several small noises from around Jack as he shut his eyes and relaxed his body. Footsteps, birdsong, the swishing and rippling of water behind him, a soft breeze turning leaves into kites and fluttering kisses, the memory of blonde hair lilting in the soft glow of a setting summer sun, swishing around her shoulders as she danced…

A chilly drop of water interrupted Jack’s concentration on his happy memories. _Rain?_ There hadn’t been a single drop of precipitation since early spring, several months back now, before summer had turned the green of the forest emerald and the sun scorching.

The sky was just as cloudless as it had been a few minutes ago, the brightness of noon sudden. Suzy had taken Matthias’s place standing above Jack, squeezing water from a rag onto his skin and wiping his brow. “He needs to get dressed and leave soon. You shouldn’t have taken so long trying to help him walk. The transformation’s strenuous enough already.”

“Then let him rest for a little while!” came the other mage’s voice from across the clearing. “I’ll get the crutches!”

Suzy sighed. “The transformation’s more difficult than I’m comfortable with,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you’ve lasted so long. You need rest.”

Jack smiled at her worries. “I’m fine,” he assured. “Just a little sore. I think it would look suspicious if I showed up to the coronation suddenly able to walk, anyway.” He gave a laugh, feeling his strength returning to him, then sat up, the sweat washed away from his forehead. He took the wet rag from the mage and washed the stickiness from his torso and each arm with the cool water of the lake that he had lived in all his life. Feeling it made him want to jump back into the murky depths, breathe in his home, relax and sink into familiarity.

As he finished cleaning himself, Jack countered this wish as he remembered the dance. _Oh_ , the dance! He smiled at the memory, the people. Mark and Marzia, swirling like snowflakes in a flurry, Ken and the Queen Regent sharing waltzes, Felix in his luscious green doublet, blond hair slicked and smile welcoming, Charlie and his hilarious little inappropriate comments.

Jack chuckled to himself as he slid the commoner trousers off of his legs and replaced them with the elegant fabric of the undergarments and pants tailored by the sweet old woman from the castle. He had been taught quite a few human jokes and innuendos that night by the earl that he couldn’t bear to forget.

The lake-dweller wondered if...somehow...perhaps...Signe would be there, at the coronation. How would he be able to find her? Mark would help him, of course, if asked; Felix might have been a better bet, though. Jack didn’t know how busy the archduke would be, but he knew that Felix was well-liked among the castle staff and villagers alike. Whatever it took to see her again-

A rustle in the trees interrupted his stream of thought yet again, and Jack looked up to find Matthias returning with a new pair of crutches. They weren’t as crude or blocky as the original ones he had been given, and didn’t look big enough for Matthias- meaning that they had been made for Jack this time. He smiled at the thought of his friends doing all this for him. Still, they barely measured up to the crutches the shorter man had left behind at the castle, with the cushioned tops, the ribbons, the smooth texture and lovely chestnut color.

“Get dressed!” he urged, setting the wooden aids in the grass. “Get your boots and shirt on! Do you _want_ to miss the coronation?”

The very thought of being late sent Jack into a flurry of movement, snatching up the black leather boots and pulling them up his legs, over his pants, until his _feet_ fit into the bottoms and the tops ended snug under his knees. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned the top before covering it with his shining doublet, tight against his arms and torso and glorified by the sun, making it shimmer, sparkle, come to life.

Suzy tugged out his hair with a comb, fixing it like how Jack's mother would long ago. His focus shifted between Matthias's droning lecture on what was and wasn't an appropriate way to lie to humans and the dream he had experienced during his second transformation. The merpeople, they had been...

"Suzy, he's fine, would you let him leave?"

Jack blinked, then looked up at the sky. The sun was high, blazing. It was midday already! The coronation would be starting any second now! At least the castle was within decent walking distance from the lake, so transportation wasn't necessarily a problem.

"Thanks, both of you!" Jack cried as he moved forward, looking for all the world like a royal official, off to the castle. He prayed that his crutches would hold up throughout the day and further into the night, and listened to his friends wish him well as he swung himself into the woods, and off to the coronation of his closest friend.

* * *

The castle was large, of course, the stone towering high on top of one another to form a beautiful behemoth of a structure, the gray color almost happy in the conditions of the day- the same even humidity as ever, the sun shining down the same as the first day Jack had visited.

And yet despite the sudden change of scenery, from humble little lake in the woods to royal palace, the amount of villagers that flooded the courtyard and leaked out around the stones to witness the coronation made the gray marble seem like a cottage.

Fortunately, the courtyard was built quite wide, so the amount of people that had fit in was a good one. Because this event was far more formal than the ball following the wedding, only a chunk of each section of the kingdom was invited: The plump, wealthy farmers and their many children from the center of the region; the stick-thin men and women from the eastern corner, lace collars pulled up behind their heads and faces white with powder to turn them into dull pearls peeking from unhappy oysters; the builders from the west with bent backs and hands turned to rock from long days of growing callouses; the hard-working southern women with salt combed into their scents from long days fishing, hair tied into twisted braids, hands small but craggy and lined from salt water, eyes tired but honest; and, of course, the region closest to the castle, the village near Jack’s lake, home to the bakers, crafters, musicians, poets, aristocracy.

With his crutches, Jack turned heads; dressed as he was, however, many of the guests nodded to him in respect, assuming him to be a direct royal subject to the castle, and to Prince Mark.

 _Not just a subject,_ Jack thought with a swell of happiness, _a close friend!_ And as if the sky had been lifted from Atlas’ back, Jack found his confidence boosted; he nodded back at the guests with an eased smile and, while waiting for the coronation to begin, remembered who he was looking for, and kept his eyes open for the colors of his friends-

It occurred to Jack at that moment something he hadn't considered- how often did humans actually change their clothing? Would Felix still be wearing his emerald green doublet, the same black boots? Would Cry still be brooding in his corner, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, head covered by a waterfall of blue cloth?

 _Could she be here?_ Jack was still at the very back of the courtyard, and his heart swelled when he happened to catch any sight of a blonde head of hair, only to disappoint himself each time and move on a step further into the crowd, anxious to come in contact with a familiar face.

"Jack."

That voice. The new human turned to his left to find Cry, identity black and shadowed under his cloak of green, little rivers of yellow designing it elegantly.

"Cry! It's good to see you again," Jack greeted, relieved at being able to speak to someone who didn't think he was in charge of part of the kingdom. "Are Felix or Ken around? Or are they a part of the coronation?"

"No time," Cry cut in. "Something’s wrong. Mark's advisors are in agreement on an issue involving you."

The brown-haired man had never gone from one emotion to another so suddenly in his life. "Me?" he challenged. "What about me?"

"I need your help." The voice of the royal informer was sharp, like the fangs of a snake, cutting to the chase with impatient hunger. "There's something that I need to sort out and set right, but you have to come with me now, before the guards see. Follow me to the throne room.”

Jack, mouth agape, only nodded before following the trusted royal servant; if there was any way that he could be of service, after everything that had been done for him, he would do it. The clothes, the crutches, the entire party. The love and friendship.

Jack kept good time behind Cry, keeping him in his sights at all times as they moved through the crowd, out of the courtyard and through the grass. Jack stumbled once when he attempted to put a few less inches between them, but kept going, if at a slightly slower pace than before.

The royal informer took his leave into the castle, cape billowing behind so that Jack could find him. They hurried down a wide hallway, the informer’s footsteps muffled through expertise, Jack’s crutches thunking down on the floor like logs.

When Jack entered the throne room, Cry was gone.

The chamber was empty.

Jack moved forward a step, unsure of how to react or where to go. He wondered if he should leave the room; it looked much more regal than the others that he had been in. An overwhelming and nauseating feeling of something dark filled the pit of his stomach. He took a step backwards.

A heavy hand met Jack's shoulder; he choked on a shout and leaned heavily on his crutches. "Cry-" he began.

He turned around. Cry wasn't there.

Two leaden faces loomed above him, carved into hardened tissue to become unfeeling rocks. Knights. The prince's sworn protectors. _Dan and Arin_ , Jack remembered. Both men seemed to be relishing the position the shorter man was in, and could not be persuaded to leave him go if they were threatened by Prince Mark himself.

But...if they were Mark's protectors, then that meant that they had been sent by...

A shadow cut off Jack's view of the high sun from the window before him. He turned to face whoever it was, ready to raise his voice and call for help. His plan was clipped again, like a bird's wings cut before its launch to flight.

The person in front of him was Ken.

"Jack," Ken murmured,"it's very important that you come with us."

The frightened lake-dweller had never been so uncertain before. "Where?" he inquired, straightening his spine. "What do you need me to do?" He just wanted to _help_.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Cry appear behind Ken, as well as Charlie. All gazes were dark, disappointed, unable to make eye contact with their new friend.

Ken's voice was quiet, yet it reverberated throughout the cold room. "I need you to stay calm and hold your arms out in front of you."

Jack willed Ken to just _look at him_ , but there didn't seem to be any way to do so. There was nothing worse, the new human decided, than this kind of feeling. Like he was so low that his friends couldn't bear to set eyes on him. Like he wasn't human.

Except...Jack really _wasn't_ a human. He was never meant to be human, never naturally. There was no way for him to permanently take on a human form, no matter how much he wanted it.

So maybe- just maybe-

 _They had found out._ They knew- they knew that he wasn't human, somehow, and had decided that he was an abomination and should be put to death, made to dry out and be used for summer jerky at dinner.

But, but, but. But his friends wouldn't do that to Jack.

Wouldn't they?

Letting go of his crutches and balancing them under his arms, Jack held out his hands to the Lord Chamberlain.

Cold constrictions tightened around both wrists; a third, invisible, one around his lungs. Jack looked down to find metal rings, fastened together with a short chain, chafing the skin of his forearms and restricting his movements.

"Jack," Ken announced, voice loud,"you're hereby under arrest for intents of violence against Prince Mark and for the regicides of his brother, Prince Thomas, and their father, the King."

It was in this moment that Ken made eye contact, and with the way he looked at the accused, Jack had wished that he hadn't.

"Do you have anything to say?" the Lord Chamberlain breathed.

Jack gaped like a fish. His throat closed up. He wanted nothing more than to tear off his human attire and leap into the ocean to hide under the sand, to sleep there until there was nothing left of the earth but water and foliage and the laughter of the merpeople so that he could join in.

When he never answered, Ken jerked his neck at the knights behind the man.

"Take him away."

* * *

Despite the unbroken streak of perfect, warm days the summer had gifted the kingdom, and though the day of the coronation was no exception, Jack shivered in his dungeon.

The conditions of the room he had been thrust into were cramped, lacking in provisions, the only light available being three holes high up in the walls that were no bigger than his head. The tower he had been dragged up and trapped in was so high that it could have disappeared into the clouds, and yet what awaited the prisoner was so foul that he wondered how he could even be close to the lovely sky.

There was a pile of hay on the floor that Jack crawled onto after Mark’s guards had thrown him to the floor and locked him inside; it was scratchy, the filthy yellow straw poking into his skin, but it was softer and warmer than the stone beneath it. He trembled there, confused, lost, wondering what could have gone wrong, what he had _done_.

He listened to the cheer of the crowd outside and the swell of music.

Youtopia had a new king and queen.

The dungeon at the top of the tower was empty save for the prisoner inside, though he still jumped at the shadows that the setting sun cast through the slits in the walls. Jack reached up, weak legs wobbling dangerously, and poked a hand through to the world outside his bubble of lonesome punishment.

“Help me,” he whispered to the birds he heard chirping on the roof of the tower, to the celebrating people down below, to the mages in the forest who were waiting for him to return from the festivities, to the lake, to his home. His legs gave out and Jack collapsed back onto the mold of the hay.

“Please, help me.”

Jack sat alone as the sun forsake him and made way for the unquiet black curtain of night.

There was no opening in the door, the plain slab of wood that was keeping him captive. No slit for light, no window like at the dance or in the throne room; the dull light of the torches on the other side of the door trickled beneath to allow an inch of the outside world into the torturously small room.

A sudden and overwhelming claustrophobia took an icy hold around Jack’s heart and squeezed it tight, tight, until he felt as if he would rather leap from the tower he was trapped in rather than spend another second lying on the pile of damp hay, surrounded by tight walls that screamed hopelessness at him. Had it been minutes? Days?

The roar of the festivities had gone, smothered from the inside the palace. No. They didn’t know the meaning of the word _smothered_ like Jack did.

His friends- who he’d thought were his friends- were likely celebrating inside. Not just likely: Jack was positive that all of the humans he had danced and laughed with at the ball were now dancing and laughing in merriment over the news that he was their captive and their new king was safe from whatever conspiracy Jack was thought to be a part of.

 _Intents of violence against the prince._ The king, now. What kind of king just throws friends into dungeons where the walls close in on you, where there’s no light to be had, no hope to be had, no water?

Water. There was no water.

Jack’s spine straightened into a rod of unbendable anxiety. His eyes opened wide, greeted by the hopeless tar of the dungeon’s forever blackness. Humans needed water, didn’t they? If he was being held prisoner, then they didn’t have any intentions of killing him, executing him, whatever gruesome practices this species overlooked as punishment. There should be water in this dungeon, somewhere. Humans had to drink _something_ to survive!

The man moved onto his hands and knees, struggling in the dark to find a way to relieve at least some of his worries. Outside, loud crackles sounded from the sky, followed by bright flashes of light. A thunderstorm? Jack hadn’t noticed any rain.

The explosions of color were followed by cheers and whoops from below; fireworks, the forest mages called them. Jack stopped in his search to soak up as much of the experience as he could through the cracks of windows that let in air. The fireworks bloomed like flowers, purple and white and red.

 _Beautiful_ , Jack thought, and whispered the word aloud. What a cruel beauty he found in such a ridiculous human custom.

His legs were somehow strong enough crawl, and he slid forward on his knees. The stone floor he had admired in the ballroom and castle courtyard was now an enemy, forcing shivers from his bones and bruises from his skin. Jack gave a whimper at the contact of his bare hands on the disgusting ground of the dungeon; the cold stung so badly it hurt, but if the time came for him to transform, he needed to equip himself with as much water as he could find.

Another firework burst into life outside the tower; in the same moment, Jack’s fingers hit rough wood. He pulled back at first, then grabbed it as his spirits rose. Was it-?

Kneeling beside the wooden basin, Jack dipped his fingers inside and nearly cheered when he pulled them back wet and slick in the dim moonlight that streamed in from the little windows. He peered into it- his own reflection stared back, surrounded by clear water.

The basin was only a third full, but it was good enough for Jack. He looked up to the moon, still falling into the dungeon as a faint and unwilling light. _How long?_ How long had it been; how much longer did he have; how long would they keep him here? They had all been friends once. Surely they couldn’t- wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ -

A sigh was lost in the stabbing loneliness of the dungeon. It could have been that there never was a sigh in the first place. Perhaps they knew...knew what he was, as he had thought before. _A merman._ Did they want Jack to change back? Transform? With barely a basin of water to keep him alive?

The king himself was far too young to remember when the humans had worked alongside of the merpeople, thriving and celebrating together. How did he think that this worked? No matter how much power he had as sovereign of the kingdom, he was wrong- but everyone around him acted as if that was impossible.

So if that was the case, how could anyone convince the king of such a glaring mistake?

Jack’s head snapped to stare at the wall where the door was, and the little line of hope shone from underneath. 

Voices.

He could hear voices out there, from somewhere on the stairs. They were getting louder- they were coming up the stairs!

Jack was going to be rescued.

One of the voices was louder, more prominent, until a second cut it off with an authoritative snap. There was a long beat of silence before the diminishing thumping of footsteps indicated the first voice taking its leave.

Then there was more silence.

The imprisoned man clenched his fists until his palms stung and he was sure he would draw blood. The anticipation would be the death of him, for sure. Jack had never experienced anything so intense before. The king was wrong, he didn’t belong in this tower! And now there was someone coming up the stairs for him- to help him- to save him- to- to-

A scuffing sound- boots on the stone steps. Then a shadow blocked some of the light that crept beneath the dungeon door. He wondered who had come to rescue him from the king’s faulty judgement. Obviously Jack was innocent, so one of his friends from the castle had come to let him go. Ken was coming to open the door, let him out, tell him that there had been a huge mistake and invite him back to the ball to dance with the new queen. Felix would hug him at the bottom of the tower, apologize for what had happened, admit that sending the king’s guards after him wasn’t right.

A click of a key in a lock. It was real, this was really happening. He was being let out!

A heavy thunk of an outer latch being moved. A second latch. A third. At last, the door was free to move and open. To let Jack go free from the black, strangling dungeon so small he could have gone crazy. He was so glad that Charlie was here- that Felix was here- that Ken was here- that Cry was here- or perhaps all of them were here, and were very good at masking their footsteps.

The door opened, and though the torchlight in the hall outside of his prison room was dull and inferior to the light of day, the sudden brightness that flooded into the dungeon was so overwhelming that Jack had to cover his eyes for a moment and squint at the figure that stood before him.

Then he dropped his hand and moved back half a foot from the door, suddenly wishing that the door had never opened.

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat. “Y-you.”

Mark stepped into the room, dressed in clothing unfit for a coronation; he wasn’t wearing his crown, either. Instead, he wore a plain gray doublet, the silver mermaid insignia on the chest the only thing to indicate his belonging in the castle. His breeches and boots were black, and melted into the rest of the room. Most of his body was covered with a long, dark blue cloak that fastened around his throat with a silver broach, the hood pooling around his shoulders. The light from the hall outlined him in a golden glow, illuminating his figure and contrasting with the solemn blue and gray cloth.

“Hello,” the king said, tone kept even. He had a lantern in his left hand, the candle inside flickering proudly. Keeping his eyes on the prisoner, he shut the heavy door behind him. It trapped them inside with the darkness.

Jack couldn’t help but stare.

Mark pursed his lips, chest out as if to make himself seem bigger than he really was, or, perhaps, to seem bigger than he really felt. “I...don’t know where to begin,” he confessed at last. The silence became even more smothering, and Mark spoke again, tone more agitated than before. “What? Got nothing to say? I can think of at least five ways you could get rid of me with what you have in this room.”

 _Get rid of?_ Jack opened his mouth and shut it again, the atmosphere of the dungeon and the presence of the man who had been his friend only hours ago perturbing him beyond words. He didn’t know what to ask first, or if he should be asking anything at all.

His silence was a mistake, because the king took it as a confession. “You can’t even- you can’t even speak to me?” His eyes were pleading, more desperate than a ruler’s should have been. “You can’t even tell me why you did all this? You’re a peasant! You don’t have anything to gain from this! I don’t…” His shoulders slumped from their rigid position. Mark looked ready to kneel before Jack and pray for penance to atone for whatever he had done to deserve the apparent betrayal.

“I don’t _understand_ , Jack. We’re friends!” He leaned forward, waiting for a confirmation.

“...Aren’t we?”

The imprisoned man gazed up at the king, who, at the moment, was exactly that- a king, a ruler, a monarch. What was it about power that corrupted humans with such little trouble? Jack's heart was set ablaze with anger. If this was a world where people locked up their friends when they felt like it, then the merman wanted no part in it. The man standing before him wasn't human.

But Jack wanted him to be. He wanted to find again the prince sobbing by the lake, knees so close to the edge that he looked like he had been ready to fall in and let himself sink into the seaweed. He wanted to find the man who gave him everything and then some, parts of his castle, parts of himself, clothing and kindness and love.

Jack spoke up. "Mark," he said. His voice scratched against itself from the hours of disuse. "Why am I here?"

This took the king by surprise. "Why...what?" He composed himself, becoming a diplomat; cold fury consumed his body.

"Regicide, Jack."

 _Regicide._ That's what Ken had said. Jack just couldn't wrap his head around it. "Regicide!" he repeated like a slow child. "What regicide?"

Mark's expression was as cruel as the icy peaks of a mountain the mages had told Jack of; the king's body was rigid, as if he had been frozen, though his limbs shook with rage.

"You killed my father. You killed my brother. You took my trust and my friendship and stepped on them behind my back." His eyes were unfocused, as if he could see something beyond Jack’s eyes and the walls of the dungeon. "After all that we did for each other..."

"Mark, that’s not-!" Jack protested; he stood to fully face the man, so he wouldn't feel so beneath him, but his legs collapsed underneath him, and he fell to the floor. A small cloud of dust rose from the force of impact and settled on his prone form.

This only further angered the king. "Oh, cut it out! I know it's an act! Get up and talk to me already!"

The prisoner had never been so frustrated before, or so furious. In fact, he had never been furious before. "I'm not faking it!" he pled, knees and ankles shaking in weakness. "I can't walk without help! Why would I do something like that?"

Mark was sneering from above him. "To trick me. To trick everyone. How can a man on crutches murder two people and nearly get away with a third in the span of a month?"

Jack's eyes were wide and innocent, but remained calm. "I was about to ask you the same question, Mark."

The king was broken from his stupor of rage for the second time. The logic of the turnaround stopped him short. Then the human stepped back, at war with himself; the air in the dungeon, though still musty, suddenly became a little easier to breathe. Hope prevailed, if just for a little while longer.

Seeing that he had a moment with the upper hand, Jack took a chance and continued to speak. “Listen to me, _please_. This is all wrong. I just want to go home to my garden.” Another layer of desperation was added to his tone. “I can’t stay in here, Mark. I- I’m already weak as it is.” He made a pointed look to his legs before continuing. “I have medicine to take. I’m not as strong as I look. I need to go home. I could die if you leave me in here!”

Though the lie of his humanity hovered over the plea, it was all true. Jack didn’t know how long he could last outside of the water; he had never tried. He knew that the sooner he got to his lake, the better his chances of surviving this mistake were.

Mark’s expression had twisted, meaning that Jack’s words and precious, precious time had been thrown away in vain. “Medicine?” the king spat, reaching inside his cloak to pull forward a bag that hung over his shoulder beneath the blue fabric. Jack recognized it as his own brown satchel that he had left behind with the horse he had stolen after the ball. “You mean medicine like this?”

He pulled out a clear flask that fit snug in his palm, filled with a thick liquid that was such a dark green that it was nearly black. It wasn’t big, but it didn’t have to be. It was the strong potion Jack had dropped during his escape from the ball, just after he had gotten the queen to join the dance. It made the person who drank it unnoticeable, as if they were just a ghost, or a stranger in the corner of your eye.

But what kind of explanation was that? His friends had been thrown out of their village because they created things like this. Magic had become unspeakable to humans in the long years Jack had been isolated from their culture.

“Yes,” Jack answered, keeping a straight face, though his heart clenched as he lied. “It’s medicine.”

He had never seen the king look so frustrated before, so torn. “I had this _medicine_ examined. There’s hemlock in this, and belladonna.” He looked as if he were trying to seem confident in his opinion that the prisoner was guilty. “It’s poison, Jack.”

So this was why he had been turned against. The dropped bottle of magical potion had been found wherever it had escaped from his hand and misconstrued as poison. And why would anybody be carrying poison around at a royal ball?

Because they thought that-

Jack’s mouth went dry.

_Mark._

When Jack didn’t deny the accusation, the dark-haired man pursed his lips, furious that he and his council had been right about the mysterious man in the lake. Mark looked ready to fling the flask to the floor and have it shatter and spill into the crevices of the cold stones.

“Who’s gonna try and kill me next?” the king sighed. “Wade? Felix? My own guards? Who can I trust?”

“Me,” Jack rasped, voice and body weak from disuse in the dungeon for so long. “You can trust me.”

“You tried to kill me!” Mark shouted, shaking the flask at him. “I can’t trust you any more than I can trust this goddamn poison!”

Jack shook his head, begging with his eyes. “No,” he insisted. “No, it’s not poison, I swear-” His voice cracked and gave out; he brought his hand up to his neck. His throat was bone-dry, gone too long without water, like arid mud cracking beneath the sun.

As dry as it had been at the end of the ball.

Jack choked on a cough as his panic rose inch by inch. His feet and ankles itched, and his palms went as dry as his throat. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, but wasn’t sure if it was due to his sudden anxiety or his physical transformation.

“Mark,” Jack found himself begging. “You need to- I need to leave. Mark, you need to let me out of here.”

The young king spat on the floor of the dungeon beside him to convey his disgust. “I’m not freeing a murderer,” he proclaimed.

“You don’t understand,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You don’t understand! I’m going to die here if you don’t let me leave. Please!”

Pinpricks of pain began jolting the man, starting at his waist and moving down his thighs so slowly that it ached from the inside out. “Something bad is going to happen,” the prisoner choked out. “You have to let me leave! You have to- you have to-”

The begging brought Mark to another standstill. After a moment of thought, the king demanded,“Alright: I don’t understand. So tell me what’s going on. Who are you?”

Jack stopped blabbering. Could he lie and be believed in time for him to escape a second time? His legs itched and throbbed as the skin began to stick together, and the basin of water a foot to his right was suddenly too far away. The dry stones beneath him became too much for his over-sensitive body, and his breathing escalated. Everything that had happened before.

“The truth- the truth is that-” Jack stuttered, the aches becoming sharp pains. “The truth is that I’m going to die here, because- I- because-”

He cut himself off with a high-pitched wail of pain. The prisoner grabbed at his legs, clawing at them, trying to rip off the skin that didn’t belong to him, or to anyone, really. It was the skin of a stranger, of nobody, of a man who didn’t exist. Jack pulled himself along the floor, attempting to reach the basin of water in pure desperation. He was aware of Mark’s voice cutting through the deep blackness of the solitude as all of Jack’s lies were about to become undone.

Lying on the cold stones, panting, head resting next to the basin and listening to the water inside it slosh in the chilled wind of the summer night, Jack gave loud groans of pain as his legs became useless. They were, after all, fake. A disguise. Forgetting about the king behind him, he shucked off his pants so that he lie shivering in his undergarments. (Did humans have to wear so many clothes?)

The undergarments ripped in the middle and allowed the human legs to stick, then fuse, and then harden over. His bones broke and came together and branched away and healed; it hurt more than becoming human, and the agony threatened to overwhelm him. Jack’s vision flooded with a piercing white as he screamed one last time.

And when the pain ended, Jack was no longer human.

The prisoner opened his eyes against the unforgiving stone beneath him. The basin taunted him from its unattainable position against the wall in front of him. A glitter caught Jack’s eye, and he glanced down with just his eyes to find emerald scales outlined in the moonlight.

Jack shut his eyes. He was ruined, and there was no turning away from the truth. He could feel the eyes of the king burning holes in him as if he were stabbing the prisoner with a torch.

Mark must have been able to piece it all together and skin away the lies. Jack was no apothecary, no villager, no truthful friend. There was nothing to be done about his situation. All he could do was lie there, drying up, and allow himself to be gawked at like a display. After a very long time, or perhaps after only a few minutes, Mark spoke.

“You’re...you’re not…” The king swallowed, bit his lip, took a breath of the stale and solemn air. “...human.”

The word was spoken softly, but it pierced the landlocked merman like a thousand thorns from a rose bush. Jack flinched. “No,” he murmured to the stones, eyes unable to open against the heavy shame pressing against his being. “No.”

“So you live- you live in the lake,” the king deduced. “You’re not an apothecary, and you live alone because-”

The room quieted as if something had reached in and stolen Mark’s voice entirely. “This...isn’t possible,” he whispered suddenly. “There aren’t any merpeople. They all died out years ago. You can’t possibly be…”

“No,” Jack murmured. “It _is_ possible. I’m the last of my kind. There’s no one left but me. I remember the first day I was alone, when I was very young, and your grandfather was king. The plague was gone, but it was too late.”

_-people around him, floating bonelessly in the water, their tails were like his own, but all different colors, scales and hair shimmering in the sunlight that wafted through the lake waters. He called to them, waved, but their eyes were closed-_

“The truth- the _real_ truth,” Jack decided to confess, finding himself with no other alternatives,“is that...this is what I am.” He spoke to the floor, unable to face his situation, unable to face the king, unable to face Mark. “I’m a merman. I’ve lived in that lake all my life. I’ve never been to the village because I’m not human. That’s why I was a stranger to you and everyone at the ball.”

“But you were… _human_ , though,” the king pointed out. “How?”

“I’m friends with two mages who live in the forest,” Jack forced himself to admit. He hated himself for giving Suzy and Matthias away, but it was necessary to let go of all of his information in order to prove his innocence. “They cast a spell on me so I could attend the ball.”

“But it only lasts for so long,” Mark finished,“so you had to run back to the lake. And...you only recently discovered this spell. Which means that--” his voice became an enchanted hush,“--that there’s no way you could have committed murders of any kind.” The sentence hung in the air, the revelation a breath of fresh air.

Mark held up the flask to the moonlight. “Does this...keep you human longer?”

Jack shook his head. “No. It keeps the drinker from being noticed, so that I could slip out of the castle without anyone following me.” He added then,“The amount hemlock and belladonna isn’t enough to kill or even harm anyone. It adds to the effect of making the person who drinks it seem like a ghost.”

Jack’s voice was going. He reached up and dipped his fingers into the water beside him, searching for some kind of relief; the feeling of the lukewarm liquid surrounding his fingertips only heightened his awareness of how dry he was. He attempted to push himself off of the floor, the loose bits of hay biting into his skin, but his arms shook in his weakened state, and Jack collapsed back onto the stones.

_-around him, floating bonelessly in the water, their tails were like his own- He called to them, waved, but their eyes were closed-_

Jack focused in on reality to find Mark kneeling beside him, face alight with worry. It was the first time since the ball that the king’s eyes had been so sincere, so sure of his actions. His rough fingers grazed along the prisoner’s scales and, out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Mark’s bottom lip trembling like a wall on the verge of collapse.

“You’re dying,” Mark whispered, the moonlight accentuating the oceans in his eyes.

Jack knew this. “Yes,” he answered.

He was too far from his lake to survive at this point. Even on horseback, it was treacherous to attempt such a journey. It was more than treacherous- it was a fool’s errand. The dry summer of Youtopia took no prisoners. Sooner or later...sooner or later…

The night was suddenly hot and bright, like the center of a star throbbing in pain. Jack gasped on the floor of the dungeon, feeling as if he were no more than a pile of dried mud baking in the unforgiving rays of the sun. His lips were cracked and his limbs were stiff. He wasn’t meant to die out here. He was supposed to live for hundreds of years, admiring the sight of passing humans in his lake, the change of the seasons, the mages’ concoctions. Jack’s vision faded in and out, from the dark of night to a blinding white spear of hot pain.

“We could- we could put you in the fountain, in the courtyard,” he heard Mark’s voice suggest. “There’s plenty of water there, we could wait until you’re feeling better, or find some way of transporting you in a- in a carriage, and-”

What an ironic idea. The fountain that took the life of Mark’s only brother, giving back the life of the man accused of the older prince’s death.

“And what?” Jack challenged with a cough. “Let the whole castle know about me? The whole village? So I can become a circus freak?”

The king went silent; Jack felt guilty for letting himself speak so harshly, as if he wasn’t the one imprisoned.

“Mark,” he whispered, eyes finally meeting his friend’s,“please stop. There’s no hope now.”

For some reason, Jack had stopped fighting. His peppy attitude had been replaced with a tired one that reflected his true age. He felt content with his new bed of frigid stone and allowing himself to slip away and join his people, to let his body and mind separate once and for all.

Mark’s shadow loomed above him. “Mark,” Jack muttered, throat scratchy and preparing to stop working altogether,“when I die, I need you-”

The thrill of shock hit the prisoner’s body like a tidal wave, and, in an instant, he was soaked to the bone. Jack gasped and sat up, brown hair sticking to his forehead and water droplets dripping from his nose. He turned his head up to lock eyes with the king.

Mark stood above him, holding the now-empty, upside-down basin. “You’re not gonna die,” he said. “Not tonight, and not tomorrow, and not anytime soon.”

The basin was heaved into the corner without so much as a thought. The king flung off his cloak and covered Jack with it. The green scales disappeared from view; only his tail fins were visible. The silver broach was clasped around Jack’s neck and the hood flung over his damp hair. The flask of potion was shoved under his nose.

“Drink it,” the king commanded.

Jack understood. _If I can trust you, then this better not kill you._ He tore away the cork and slugged down the dark brew without hesitation; the thin sheen of water coating him and keeping him alive was drying, and there would be no more until Mark pulled off his crazy scheme.

When it was gone, Mark wrapped the cloak around the merman fully and picked him up as he would a bride, arms supporting Jack’s back and tail. The glass flask clinked as it hit the floor, the sound like a little bell ringing out to call him home.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mark said, and with a determined flourish, the door to the dungeon was open, letting the tower torchlight clash with the graying skies of dawn streaming through the windows.

* * *

The sting of the wind kept Jack conscious a little while longer, biting him with an unusual chill for the summer weather. Dawn bloomed around them: The sky was gray, the edges blushing pink, with blankets of silver clouds hovering over. _Too thin for rain,_ Jack thought to himself.

He felt himself being carried away from the tower, body dry and limp like a long forgotten ragdoll and half-covered by a lush cloak. For a brief moment, his mind and body separated, and Jack found himself floating on a cloud, just like in his dream. He gazed at his own weakening body and ashen skin as if he was pitying a stranger; the merman felt clear and bright and free. He was a bird, flying away-

A hard pressure against his back forced Jack back together and several sharp taps to his cheeks brought his eyelids around to fluttering open. Intense brown eyes bored into his own.

“Stay with me, Jack,” Mark insisted. Jack breathed in an arid rattle from where he lie on the saddle of the king’s horse. He felt a weight climb on behind him before strong, sure arms wrapped around Jack’s torso and heaved him into a sitting position. The merman’s tail hung heavy from the saddle and he leaned back against the other man’s chest; his limbs were both stiff and loose like a rusty puppet, unable to move whether Jack focused or not. The stable’s wooden structure moved around him and forced his head to throb in and out, a strange counter to the numbness that was spreading over him.

Mark’s arms appeared on either side of him, grasping onto leather reins. “Hold on,” the human advised, voice rumbling in his chest, loud against the merman’s back but quiet in the wake of morning.

The reins gave a snap. Jack felt himself gasp, the air ricocheting from his lungs into the crisp dawn of another summer day as the lovely mare whinnied and galloped out of the stables.


	8. The Rescue

Brisk winds bit at Jack’s skin like needles, keeping him conscious in constant stinging coldness. The warmth against his back contrasted the cruel freeze in front of the merman, and would have been rocked to sleep by the comfort of it if not for the speed they were moving at.

The castle and dungeons became a long-gone memory behind them. The king’s cream mare tore across the grass to meet the clean dirt path that lead to the gate, as if she and her master were of one mind and shared the same sense of urgency in this journey.

From behind the hood of the dark blue cloak, Jack could make out the castle’s gate, left open for the last of the guests from the coronation to straggle home. Within an instant, they crossed through and were surrounded by foliage on every side. Dew glittered on the flowers, leaves, and grass as the pearly gray of dawn began to blossom into a clear, blue morning, clouds thinning into strands and parting for the sun ahead of them to set the horizon on fire.

Mark steered the horse through the forest at a breakneck speed, speaking quietly words that Jack couldn’t hear or make out. The soothing tone, however, was enough to calm his suddenly frantic anxiety; he realized that he was trembling despite the thick cloak pulled around him. Jack’s hands were latched onto his friend’s arms and shaking violently. Jack wasn’t sure if it was from the fear of falling from the saddle or the fear of not getting to the lake in time to-

Hooves thumped and slid in the slick grass for them to maneuver around a group of aspen trees where the first birds of dawn had begun to sing. Jack’s head lolled back and he admired the sky: Gray and blue mixed together, with a hot pink and furious orange tinging the horizon at the arrival of the sun. The clouds were fizzling away, and the stars were fading around the descent of the moon. Morning was inevitable.

Jack’s fingers slackened, and his trembling subsided the closer to blackness he grew. Dark spots danced before his eyes, blinking in and out. Whether they were getting larger or growing closer, he wasn’t sure, but they were beginning to consume the sky and the forest. The birdsong of the woods sounded both very loud and very far away, like the screeching echo of a specter.

The king, sitting behind him on the speeding mare, noticed his weakening state; his words of encouragement became a steady rumble of sharp words against the merman’s back. Mark’s arms pressed in closer to squeeze against Jack’s sides, willing him to hang on- to the horse, and to life.

The yellow light of day glowed ahead of them. And there was the clearing, bits of it peeking through the trees as the sunlight rose over the horizon to bring the dew to glitter and the lake to sparkle. The reeds waltzed sleepy in the breeze that was becoming more affectionate than cold as the day grew warmer.

It was the most gorgeous sunrise the two of them had ever seen.

Jack let out a defeated breath of stale air as his vision went white.

Maybe he had cracked from a night spent in a dungeon, maybe he had simply ready to fall asleep, or maybe he had lost himself in the fine line between life and death that he was treading, but Jack opened his eyes to dirt and grass, and twigs poking against his skin, and the king breathing heavily in his ear, imploring for him to keep awake, keep ahead, keep _alive_.

Jack couldn’t move. His fingers twitched and curled in the grass, and he blinked furiously at the sun ahead of them, golden light blinding but glorious.

Is this where it ended? Just a few yards from his lake? The voice in his ear promised otherwise.

“You’re going to be alright,” Mark whispered, forcing his arms underneath the merman’s back and tail, gripping him like a lifeline. Something wet and hot dripped onto Jack’s chin and made its way down his jawline. He forced his eyes to move, wanting to see his friend, and found that there were tears streaming down Mark’s cheeks, a cloudburst in his eyes. “Everything’s gonna be alright, Jack. Everything is gonna be alright. Everything is going to be _just fine_ …”

The words repeated themselves in echoes as the darkness took hold of Jack in completion.

* * *

There wasn’t time. Mark watched in agony as Jack’s eyes glossed over, half-open but seeing nothing.

 _But he’s still alive,_ the king thought, and steeled himself against any further obstacles. _That’s reason enough to keep going._

Mark straightened his legs, lifting the merman up with him. He started walking, every step moving quicker and quicker. His boots were soaked from the dew, and his limbs shook from the weight he took with him. His feet hit the sunlight first, and the golden gleam of morning climbed up his legs and torso, warming the dying friend in his arms, before covering the two completely in light.

The clearing opened up before them, empty as ever. The bloody orange of sunrise had evened into a gilded morning, turning the lake into a painting. The king stumbled forward; he could feel his friend grow slack in his arms the further they went. The tears on his cheeks mimicked the dew, glittering and entrancing, but melancholy all the same.

There- they were finally there. Mark fell to his knees before the lake, in the same spot he always sat in to talk to Jack. The man- merman- friend who would always have the wisest advice despite his youthful appearance, who would smile and make everything smile with him. But now Jack was deathly pale, dry as a bone, chest rising and falling in minute intervals.

Mark’s body heaved out a sob; his shaky fingers fumbled at the cloak until the silver broach unbuckled and the blue cloth pooled underneath the merman. The king felt his skin brush against Jack’s, shuddering at the veins poking from beneath his neck, the icy coldness of it, the desperate gasps for air, for water.

With a burst of determination, Mark took his friend in his arms and heaved Jack into the lake with him.

The water was much deeper than Mark had thought. Yes, it was wide, but it went down so far that he wouldn’t have been able to see the bottom if not for the sunlight streaming in through the surface. It used to house an entire ecosystem of a single species about the same size as humans, though, he reminded himself, so the amount of space should be considerable.

What floored him was the stunning and unspeakable _beauty_ of it. Emerald seaweed danced in the water, sponges and algae covering craggy rocks and caves. Mark found his mind wiped blank of any thoughts; he had never been at such peace before. The silence was calming, but such an abrupt change from the rustles and birdsong of the woods that he didn’t blame Jack for leaving it behind every now and then.

They sunk slowly, immersed in the golden water. Jack’s breathing had begun to even out, but he was still unconscious, limp, and pale as death. His eyes fluttered, but didn’t open. Mark could feel how weak he was in his arms, and knew that his friend was with him, but just barely. How long could Jack hold on for?

How long _would_ Jack hold on for?

The memory of the merman talking back in the dungeon, being so sure that he was about to die...it could be that he was tired of being the last of his kind, or that he didn’t want to live with the knowledge that all of his friends- his only friends- had tossed him in a cell without a second thought.

Mark’s eyes and cheeks were hot against the cool lake water as more sobs tore through him. His air was nearing depletion; the tips of his fingers tingled and his head was going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. And yet the man couldn’t find it in himself to swim to the surface. Jack needed water, and he needed to live. Mark wasn’t going to leave him. Not when his friend was so close to death.

Mark let out the last of his oxygen in an ironically dry sob that wracked his body and sent him sinking lower in the lake. He had made such a fatal mistake. He had been crowned king less than a day ago and he was already a failure. His castle, his queen, his mother, and his friends had all been left behind because their king had tossed an innocent man in the worst of their dungeons and allowed him to rot and dry up with only a flask of unidentified liquid, a dagger, and a few misplaced suspicions as evidence to his guilt.

With weakening arms and trembling fingers, Mark pulled the merman closer. He embraced Jack, praying to anything that could hear his thoughts.

_Please let Jack live. Take me instead._

Jack moved against him, though it could have been the current of the water around them as they sunk, slowly but surely, the lake flowing around their descending bodies. Mark cried and cried, unable to breathe or speak, so he simply held onto his friend and allowed himself to sob.

The flow of water grew more violent. Mark’s ears popped and his hair flew around him as if he were stuck in a hurricane. His lungs were on fire, his head was spinning; he couldn’t focus on anything but his guilt and the life that had been thrust upon him that had taken away his own sense of self.

 _Who am I?_ Mark wondered. _The king of a land that had allowed half of its people to die out without a trace of guilt...a land that forgot who its friends were the moment that their precious power’s threatened._ He remembered why he hadn’t ever wanted to be king. The love of power clouded all judgement, whether you were willing to take it or not. Eventually, it corrupted.

His vision was going black around the edges. The water of the lake pressed into Mark until his lungs were flattened and empty, his limbs battered and useless, his pores flooded and emptied and flooded again-

The king choked when the lake’s surface hit him and forced air into his lungs. He coughed up water, nearly vomiting up the contents of his stomach from the night before. He floundered before his legs remembered how to tread water, and exhaustion moved him to swim to the grass, where he crawled onto the bank.

Mark sputtered up water on his hands and knees, fingers clutching the ground in desperation, hair plastered to his forehead. Water droplets formed rivulets over his skin, their trails slowly drying in the new day. The human shivered slightly in the light breeze of the sunrise. Why was he alive? He’d been drowning...what had gotten him to the surface of the lake so fast? What outside force was that powerful? And where was-

With a million thoughts running through his mind, Mark spun around, kneeling in front of the lake.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

There was Jack, hands on the bank of the lake, gazing up at him with all the concern in the world.

The king was in shock. “J-Jack! I- you’re ok! You’re alright!”

“Enough about me,” the merman cried, knuckles paling. “You almost _drowned!_ What were you doing?”

“Saving you!” Mark had a funny smile on his lips, the kind where you feel as if everything is too good to be true, and yet the thrill of it all is too overwhelming not to embrace. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it!”

“You didn’t have to throw yourself in with me!” Jack had the same smile forcing his lips to curve up at the turn of events. “Well, anyway...I guess we’re even.”

This sobered Mark right up. He dipped his head into his chest, unable to make eye contact. He didn’t know where to start in order to decode every emotion flying through his head, didn’t know how to justify them. “Jack,” he murmured,“we’re not even. I don’t think we ever will be.” He continued before the merman could ask any questions.

“That day, right here at the lake. The day we first met.” He sucked in a breath of air. “The only reason I came here...was because I thought...I figured that since my brother was gone, the best thing to do was join him.”

He could feel Jack’s want to speak, so he kept going. “I felt so out of control. My father...my brother...someone’s been killing off my family. I didn’t know when I’d be next, but I knew it would happen, so…” It was almost too ridiculous, too embarrassing to admit- Mark couldn’t look the other man in the eye, instead keeping his gaze on the grass beneath his knees. And yet it had to be said.

“I thought it would be easier if my life- my death- was entirely in my hands.”

The king brought his head up to weather the storm and force himself to look his friend in the face. “But you were there. You appeared. You _spoke_ to me. You showed me that it’s fine to mourn, but it’s better, more important, to stay strong. To keep going.”

The merman shook his head. His eyes were wide and disbelieving. “I...don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” The king pursed his lips. “I might change my mind about letting you go. Though I guess it’s too late to go back.”

“What about everyone at the castle?” Jack inquired. “You said it yourself, I’m the top...suspect, or whatever. What are you gonna tell them?”

Mark steeled his features. “I’m gonna settle the score. I still owe you, Jack.”

The merman swallowed a lump in his throat. “I guess you do.”

Mark stood as morning flourished, the sun turning the lake into a crystal and the king into a glowing saint. “You saved my life. Now it’s my time to return the favor. I’ll head back to the castle, now, and I’ll clear your name. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

“What about…?” Jack let his tail peek out of the water, finishing his question for him.

“No one will know about your identity,” Mark promised. “I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them, anyway. You’ll always be Jack the apothecary to them. They won’t know anything about the lake or your potion. All they’ll know is that you’re innocent.”

“Mark,” Jack breathed, looking for all the world like a flower crushed by a cloudburst. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever- I mean…”

Mark smiled and crouched down. “Hey, enough with the sad eyes. You don’t have to do anything in return. We’ll be even after this, remember? I’ll be back tomorrow so we can celebrate your freedom together.”

“You mean...you’re still gonna visit me?”

Mark considered it; he always spoke before he thought. Jack had lied to him, and everyone else. But he was alone, the last of his kind. Everyone wanted to fit in somehow. And the idea of dancing at a royal ball after years cooped up in a lake?

Mark found that he couldn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Where else would I go to talk to a friend?” the man smirked. The smile Jack gave him in return was breathless, and so brilliant that it could have been blinding if the sun were to catch on it the right way.

Mark stood again. “Like I said, I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack. You’ll be a free man long before then, I promise.”

The king let himself sit astride his horse and lead her towards the forest. The grins he and the merman shared remained as Jack sunk into his lake and Mark had already disappeared into the morning forest.

* * *

“I...Your Majesty, I don’t understand.”

All members of his council wore similar expressions: Confusion, astonishment. He thought he saw rage in a few of their eyes, crackling like summer lightning.

"I know this is unorthodox," Mark explained. It was more than that. This was unheard of- punishable, even. He had made a promise, though, that he would clear his friend's name and keep his identity a secret, all in one council session. "The situation called for immediate action. Jack was telling the truth the entire time- you saw him, he was on crutches. When I visited him in the dungeon, he was dying."

This was where the king would have to stretch the truth some.

"Jack explained it all to me. He was born with this disability, lived with a weak constitution his entire life. He couldn't even hold himself upright without assistance. The conditions in the dungeon would have been the end of him."

He had never seen Felix so agitated before. "Your Majesty, freeing a prisoner is a matter that has to be taken up with the council first."

"I did what I thought was right," Mark argued. "He was dying. It was clear to me that he couldn't have had anything to do with the murders."

"What about the dagger in his bag?" the duke insisted.

"Your Majesty," Cry spoke up,"he dropped a vial of poison, as well."

Mark pursed his lips. "It's not a crime to armed in this kingdom. We all carry weapons. I saw more than one villager at the coronation last night with swords and daggers. I don't see a difference between carrying one on your belt and carrying one in your bag."

"And the poison?" Ken challenged.

"Jack's an apothecary," the king replied. "More important than that, he's a disabled man who's been sick all his life. I watched him drink straight from the vial. It's medicine. If you don't believe me, go check the dungeon. There should be an empty vial on the floor."

Nobody moved. They didn't dare challenge their king's word to be anything else than true.

"Based on everything I now know," Mark finished,"I let Jack go free. It was the only way to keep an innocent man alive." He looked around the room. "Does anyone have anything else to say?"

Every single man in the room did, but they kept it to themselves, instead letting their anxieties and anger out with twiddling fingers and deep breaths.

"Then that's all. I don't want to hear anything else about this matter." The king stood. "You're dismissed."

Mark could feel their harrowing thoughts even after the room was empty.

* * *

The lake water felt unnaturally cold against his skin as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows against the grass. The silver clouds from the morning had long since gone, leaving a barren sky and a bright sun to reign over the kingdom, just as it had since summer began. High and dry.

Jack found himself daydreaming, creating future situations, playing through them in his head, discarding them, and then starting the process over again. Every negative possibility trumped every positive one, burning through the happy endings, always coming out on top as the most likely outcome.

Everything was telling Jack that the worst was yet to come, and that it was inevitable.

The oak tree to his left rustled from within the top few branches; Jack panicked, diving beneath the water to avoid being seen.

He allowed himself to sink peacefully while he remained in thought. He was too jumpy- it had probably just been a squirrel or hawk. Humans weren't known for climbing to the tops of trees in their spare time.

Still, the anxiety persisted.

_Mark gave my identity away- He's been dethroned for freeing a prisoner- no, exiled- no, executed-_

Jack shut his eyes in annoyance. He was being ridiculous. Mark had promised him full amnesty, clearance for being wrongly convicted, and that Jack's identity would remain a secret. After saving each other's lives, the merman trusted the king to the stars and back.

As for an execution, Jack still remained wary. _Assassination_ would be the better word. The original murderer was still loose, and no doubt prepared to attack again. Who that was remained a mystery, but the more Jack stayed on the subject, the more confidence he had that Mark and the other officials at the castle would be able to discover the villain.

The merman smiled to himself. The council had tricked him into custody, so there was nothing stopping them from repeating an ambush to keep their king safe.

He sunk into the lake sponges as his spirits lifted. He trusted Mark, and if Mark trusted his royal council, then so did Jack.

Mark had also promised to visit the lake tomorrow after his duties were completed. They could discuss any attempts of future regicide then, and when it would be safe for Jack to become human and visit the castle again.

Jack shut his eyes and let sleep wash over him. Tomorrow, everything would be sorted out.

There would be a happy ending.


	9. The Farewell

Despite his staunch position on the issue of Jack’s innocence, Mark found sleep hard to come by.

Sleeping beside his peaceful young wife brought him no comfort. It wasn’t until the sun was peeking above the trees that the kind found himself in a doze, dreaming of rain that stuck to his hair and ran down his skin in rivulets, and then he was tumbling without control into the lake to find himself underwater, surrounded by dozens of others who couldn’t move, either.

Mark was alone when he opened his eyes again, greeted by a headache of a knock on his chamber door and a voice announcing the start of the day.

By the time midday slugged about, the king’s mood hadn’t improved. The role of monarch was an important one: The people prospered morally from a strong leader to look up to, and many issues were directed to him for his sole decision. The paperwork, however, was miserable. Signing, sealing, sending, like a time loop in hell. Settling disputes between villagers and giving everyone what they deserved, whether it be land, gold, or time in the dungeons.

All members of the council were dismissed from the throne room once all duties were finished at midday. Mark, as always, was shadowed only by Cry, who held his tongue until the room had emptied and the king had slouched into his throne as if he’d be willing to be swallowed by it.

“What’s the matter?” the royal informer asked into the echo of the abandoned room. “Your friend’s free, you’re still king, and your kingdom’s prospering like never before.”

Mark felt as if he had aged 80 years in a single night. His bones were slipping away from his melting flesh, and if he slept forever, he wouldn’t mind. When he opened his mouth to try and explain the feeling, though, no words came to mind, so he only sighed. “I don’t know, Cry. Maybe I’m not fit to be king. Maybe I never was.”

Mark had never seen his shadowed friend hesitate before now. The man shifted his footing and took a few extra seconds to respond. “You’re a Fischbach. You’re royalty. It’s destiny, all of it.”

The king huffed out what could have been a short-lived bitter laugh. “It’s a goddamn tragedy. Thomas should be king. If he were here…”

A pause in the conversation made it seem as if the entire world had stuttered to a stop for a split second. The chirping of new birds broke the illusion, and the royal informer took it upon himself to speak again.

“I think...that we should accept what’s happening. You’re king now, and that’s that.” Cry cleared his throat. “Maybe you should go take another of your rides through the woods.”

That caught Mark’s attention. Another ride… It couldn’t be safe, not in the least. Their prime suspect was innocent and free, so whoever was responsible for the deaths of the king and his eldest son remained at large. No doubt they wanted the entire royal family dead. For whatever reason that was, no one knew.

Every ride through the woods Mark took was a risk to his life and to his lineage. He expected to have a son one day, a prince to raise, but even a future child would be in danger until the assassin was found.

And yet he felt as if nothing else could help him. Alone, relaxed, with nothing but the forest and his horse. He’d promised Jack a visit, anyway.

“Well...alright,” the king conceded. “A ride usually clears my mind.” He gave Cry a pat on the shoulder and a tight smile. “I’ll see you later. And...thanks.”

He barely looked at the stable boy as he strode over to his mare, mounted her, and took off into the woods.

* * *

The scenery was like medicine, reminding Mark that life wasn’t all meetings, declarations, laws, and sustaining the weight of a golden crown on his head without letting his neck crumple like an organetto. It settled his mind bit by bit, familiar flowers dry of the morning dew from the noontime sun warming the greens.

If it weren't for the threat of enemies nagging him in the back of his mind, Mark would have been content to rest his head forward on his mare's neck and let the slow rocking of the moving creature lull him into a doze. There was sunshine dappling the leaves and birdsong echoing through the forest itself, setting the scene for a much-needed rest, surrounded by peace.

It wouldn't be the same with a league of knights behind him, ready to protect. This was something sacred, something special, and somehow secret.

Mark knew in his heart that there were certain kinds of magic: Magic that was bedazzling, mind-boggling, like a magic spell, like something to give a merman legs and let him walk among royalty.

A quiet magic also existed, just as mysterious, but something to be admired instead of simply studied. Nature was certainly magical, performing natural wonders for reasons most couldn't even fathom. Mark loved the trees and mountains, whose forms bent his neck back for him to appreciate fully, the familiarity of the scenery on and off the path.

It was here that revelations took form. Mark thought about the night before, watching Jack change species on the damp floor of the dungeon. You couldn’t change who you were; not permanently, at least. You could try, and you could succeed, but it would never last.

And as much as Mark wanted to give up his crown for a life of travel and adventure, it was suddenly made very plain to him that it could never be. The only road for him was that of royalty and rule.

It didn’t feel good, but it felt right.

His horse stopped moving, suddenly, and the king frowned. He rubbed up and down her neck, but this didn’t ease the sudden anxiety of the animal, who shook her mane and snorted as if being attacked by an invisible wasp. She took a few steps back, beginning to turn around, but Mark pulled on the reins to keep her in place.

“Woah,” he said. “Hey, calm down! What’s the matter?”

The poor mare only whinnied excitedly and dug up clumps of dirt with her hooves; whatever sound or smell she had gotten hold of, it was causing her huge distress. Maybe it was a dead deer somewhere down the path- poachers were uncommon, but the possibility was still there.

The snap of a stick broke the forest’s magic.

Mark sat very still in the saddle.

The situation had become very different with just a simple sound. His mare hadn’t smelled a wounded deer, or a filth-covered peasant killing forest animals for a much-needed meal. It was common knowledge that no poacher in his right mind would set foot near a path with their prize- it was simply stupid. You would be caught for certain.

Whoever was there, hiding just off the path, had business lurking about behind him without showing their face. This was no poacher.

Mark was being followed.

The king made no indication that he had heard any noise besides his horse. Once she had calmed, Mark nudged her gently, and they were trotting along again.

Whoever was behind him was an expert at keeping themselves hidden. And perhaps there was no one there at all, now that he thought about it- the sudden snap of a brittle stick could have been the fault of an animal or a too-ripe fruit breaking it with its weight.

The king remembered his father, though, and his older brother. It was too much of a coincidence not to be suspicious. How could he keep his anxiety at bay when he was newly married, with no children to claim as his heir and no idea of who to trust except for a strange, magical creature in a lake somewhere off in the forest?

There were two ashen birch trees that stood alone, but together, strange to all but themselves a few meters down.

The king had grown up knowing the loner trees, and not a day had ever gone by where their branches weren’t intertwined. Whether they realized it or not, it was nothing less than fate that had dictated them to forever be connected, despite the rot that had overtaken one and that had begun to infect the other.

This was where Mark usually strayed to his left, off the path and into the foliage, to get to the lake. There was no way he could potentially lead someone to his friend, though. Jack could be turned into a circus freak, or worse, a head on a spike and a body on a physician’s table to be dissected.

The thought of it stole the breath from his lungs.

There were the trees, growing closer. The leaves of the living one swung to the right with the slight wind that the afternoon offered; Mark focused on the sun dappling the fronds, as if meditating on a thought. When he reached the trunks, he had come to a decision.

Whoever thought that they could end Mark’s life and ruin that of his friend’s in a single day had another thing coming.

With a steely determination molded over him, the new king steered his mare off the path to the right.

He wondered if this sudden turn from the main path would give away the fact that Mark was aware of his being followed. Whoever it was might think that their chance for stealth had been ruined and turn back to try another day. But who in their right mind would wander into the forest alone if they were afraid of being ambushed?

Perhaps staying on the path would have been better. Mark could have gone straight to town; no one would dare touch him with so many eager people surrounding their king, including the regular guards who were stationed around town to keep the peace among the people.

The again, whoever was behind him could know the path just as well, know that it led to town, to people, to witnesses. Mark had to take into account this person’s patience- they could make any attempts on his life right there on the main path before he could make it any further to safety.

And if there really was someone following him, then there would be fewer places to disguise the sound of their movements.

Mark moved steadily forward, feeling his heart thump against his ribs with each slow step his horse took.

He was sure that he could hear footsteps behind him, hidden but audible. The crunch of dirt was unmistakable and inevitable; however skilled at moving this person was, they couldn’t disguise it. Mark had been taught from an early age every twist and turn of the woods, which branch pointed where and how to follow the grass to where he wanted to go.

On a clear night when he was nine, he had been taken out to climb a tree and analyze the stars to find his way home. He’d been made to do it for so long that he could navigate his way around without even looking at the sky, if he knew what time of night it was. For day, he had been made to memorize the ground beneath his feet, how far to walk before turning a certain way to get to where he wanted to go. Backroads and secret clearings to camp unnoticed if it was needed.

The untempered weather of the summer was suddenly dangerous. The clouds had never been more absent; the sunlight was pure and set every inch of Earth aglow. Mark’s royal clothing was practically shimmering, like a body of water ready to be penetrated by the clever arrow of a hunter searching for fish. He felt like a target in and of himself.

Just ahead there was a slight break in the foliage. If Mark made it there, he could turn to his right and head towards a fig tree; setting off northwest from there would lead him straight to the very front of the castle.

He was tempted to dig his heels in and set off at a trot, but, still, it was too dangerous. The king raised his spirits with the reminder that the trees thickened in the direction he would be setting off in. Soon, soon, he would be safe.

There was the fig tree, large fronds beckoning him towards it. The closer Mark got, the safer he felt. When he at last made it to the gnarled brown bark, he stopped at the trunk to rest his frazzled nerves and admire the sun-dappled leaves.

It all happened too quickly.

There was the sound of some kind of explosion, hitting the ground next to Mark’s mare. The poor horse let out a shriek and reared back on its hind legs, shaking its powerful head and sprinting forward for protection.

Mark didn’t even cry out- he sucked in a gasp of air before he was sent tumbling from his horse, ankle twisting in the stirrup before it slipped out with the rest of him.

All breath was forced from the king’s lungs when he hit the ground. He winced in pain, trying to get to his feet before he could be taken advantage of. Someone had a musket, had tried to shoot him, or his horse, tried to harm him-

His mare’s reins were tangled in the branches of the fig tree. The king stood, gasping for air, his left leg throbbing and practically screaming at him in its injured condition. He wheezed out agitated breaths, hobbling over to pat his mare, calm her down, and attempt to yank the leather strap from the brittle fig tree. He had to get back to the castle, no matter what, as soon as he could.

It couldn’t have been a wayward poacher who had mistook the king’s steed for a deer, it couldn’t have been. Mark grit his teeth against all pain and obstacles glaring him in the face. No one could take his life from him. He had promised Jack that he would visit him again. He had a wife, he had a lineage to protect, he had a kingdom to rule.

The reins were just beginning to budge when there were footsteps behind Mark. He was not alone.

“Your Majesty.”

Determination flashing like shooting stars in his eyes, Mark flung his longsword from its scabbard and twisted around on his good leg, brandishing the weapon at whoever it was that dared approach him.

“What do you think you’re-?” he cried, but cut himself off; his defenses dropped as soon as he saw who had appeared.

His two personal guards, Dan and Arin, stood in the shade of the fig tree, hands empty and out in a gesture of peace.

Mark sheathed his longsword, squaring his shoulders. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, eyes piercing into both knights. “Why were you following me?”

“My lord,” Arin said, taking a step forward,“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” The king was beyond terrified, breath still ragged and heart still racing. “I thought you were coming to kill me in some empty neck of the woods! You don't think I know what’s been going on? You don't think I know why it’s dangerous for me to be going off alone into the forest?”

“My lord,” Dan interrupted,“we know all about the plot.”

That stopped him short. Mark’s features softened into shock. He hadn’t even been sure that there _was_ some plot against the royal family until now; he’d certainly never expected his own guards to have been caught up in the whole thing. “You _do_?”

Arin nodded while Dan spoke. “Whoever’s behind it told us the whole thing and had us placed as your personal guards. It was all strategic.” 

__

“But Dan and I talked since then,” the other knight continued. “We don’t want to be involved in it.” He pursed his lips. “We were promised land and riches, but...it’s not worth the life of our king.”

Their speech was noble, and their expressions sincere. Arin stepped forward, with hesitance, pulling a scroll of parchment from his belt. “We even know who wants you dead,” he added. “This is an underground decree given to us by him. It’s directions on how he wants us to assassinate you.” He handed it to Dan before taking three slow steps towards their king. “We’ve abandoned these directions. We want to help you.”

Mark found himself speechless, unsure of the best route to take. _Trust them, or flee?_ It was deadly to be a naive ruler, but after all of the information given to him, who else could Mark _really_ trust? Ken? Cry? The mastermind behind the plot could have been anyone, could have recruited any number of people on his staff.

Having two sure friends was better than being surrounded by suspicion.

__“I...I believe you,” he said at last. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”_ _

__“There’s none necessary,” Dan assured, moving behind the other knight. “We’ll serve you until the day you die, my liege.”_ _

__Arin placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder, his grip firm. His imposing frame blocked off the sun’s rays, throwing the monarch into shadows. A sudden wind rustled the leaves of the fig tree into a frenzy._ _

__“Long live the king,” Arin said._ _

__All air on the planet was sucked away in a single burst as the dagger was plunged into Mark’s heart._ _

__A warm blanket fell away from his eyes, leaving an emptiness, a sadness, but an understanding, where it had once been. He could have been seeing Dan and Arin for the first time. Mark clutched at his chest, feeling warmth burn into his skin where the cold metal was lodged. The rest of his body ran frozen. All the earth broke apart and floated off, leaving him trembling and weak in the bleak nothing of shock that had replaced it._ _

__Images flashed before the eyes of the monarch as he tried to blink away the haze of injury: An old man in kingly clothing laying splayed in the grass, neck twisted and broken, back snapped. A prince in his prime, peaceful in his breathless grave of the castle fountain; his long black hair floated and waved like shimmering seaweed peeled from the night sky._ _

__With whatever strength he could muster, Mark tore the weapon out of himself. When he looked down, he saw a stranger’s hands: Frail, shaking, stained red. In their grip was the knight’s dagger, slaughterer of kings._ _

“You…” Mark murmured, a trickle of copper taste dripping from his mouth,“you killed my father. You killed my _brother_.”

__“And we’ve finally killed you,” Arin declared, voice low but fierce. “Who cares about gods, or lineage, or damnation, when we’ve gotten a chance at a better life? Once you’re gone, we’ll have land and serfs. We can stop surviving and start living.” He gave the dying man a sweeping gaze, a new expression taking over his eyes. “I wish I could say the same for you.”_ _

__Mark backed away, leaning on his mare. He spat blood into the grass at their feet. “You’re murderers,” he said. A fresh wave of pain overtook him as a pulse of blood gushed from the wound. The king clutched at it as if his touch could heal it. “You’re murdering _scum_. You know what happens to you if you commit _regicide_ , don’t you? You’ll be _hanged_!”_ _

__Arin unsheathed his own sword. “Only if we’re caught.”_ _

__Another soak of blood throbbed its way out of the open wound, bleaching Mark’s vision with dreamlike cloudiness. When it passed, the harsh sheen of sunlight glaring off of the knight’s weapon struck the king like a sound slap. His blood unfroze just enough for him to act with the time he had._ _

__Mark ducked behind his horse. The stirrup caught his right foot and, with every ounce of energy his body possessed, he swung his injured leg up and over his steed. He landed in the saddle with a painful thump, winding him further as the stain on his doublet grew._ _

__The dagger in his hand came up and cut the tangled reins in half, freeing his mare from the tree. His heels dug into her flanks with such intensity he was afraid he’d hurt her. It did the trick, though, because in seconds, she was flying forward, her king hugging her neck as the wind cut into his cheeks._ _

__Where could Mark possibly go? He had no clothes, no disguise, no safe house, no way of communication. He had a small satchel of rations and a flask of water, along with his fading wits, his speeding mare, and two assassins after him._ _

__Mark steered her away from the village. No way to be discreet. No guards that he could trust. In fact, there wasn’t a single person he could trust. If his own guards were so easily persuaded to kill him for godless personal gain, then who in the village wouldn’t do the same? Who in his own castle wouldn’t do the same?_ _

__Where were you to go when you were a king with everyone poised to stab you in the back the moment you let your guard down?_ _

__Not the castle. Not the village. But Mark couldn’t stop for a moment, not for a single second. He had to keep moving, or else he would surely die._ _

__It was then that it struck him. Where else would Mark go when he needed guidance, a listener, a friend?_ _

__With blood beginning to drip down his mare’s neck, the king steered her in the direction of the lake._ _

__If he could trust anyone, he could trust Jack._ _

* * *

__It could have been the first day of summer all over again._ _

__A languid green tail smoothed itself through the lake, back and forth, as the wind sighed away flower petals, letting them dance along the grass and over the water. The lake’s inhabitant floated on his back, gazing at the sky that mirrored the blue of the water, the sparse clouds that were forever changing shapes, the birds overhead._ _

__Jack always wondered what the birds were singing of. Humans that sat in the shade by the lake would sing, themselves, sometimes, often with instruments, and often with three or four women. Some of these minstrels thought that the birds sang of love; others thought that the song of a bird was a warning; others, still, found them to be battle cries or mournful laments for fallen warriors and heroes._ _

__However, they all agreed on one thing: These minstrels, like the mages Jack was friends with, knew for certain that all warriors and heroes, leaders and wisemen, kings and queens, would return to the heavens that they had been crafted in, as stars to lead wayward travelers._ _

__Jack loved it when musicians would visit his lake. They would practice, cross-legged, by the water, where they thought that no one but the trees could hear them make mistakes to fix. It was beautiful to watch._ _

__Something else was a constant when it came to the minstrels and other wandering humans._ _

__They always left._ _

__Ever since he was young, Jack had lacked a companion to wake up to, to spend the days with, someone who he had to worry about revealing his whole self to. Even Mark, who visited him regularly, and was supposed to show today, never stayed longer than an hour or two._ _

__With Matthias and Suzy, he could change that. They were talented mages, they learned quickly. Surely there was a spell or potion that was permanent, something that could tear his legs apart without any threat of his gills growing back like they had in the dungeon. With Mark, he could do it._ _

__Jack wanted to walk, he wanted to dance, he wanted to climb castles and sleep under weeping willows and leap into the arms of that magical, wonderful golden woman he had met at the ball._ _

__Even if his entire species was gone from the kingdom as a result. Even if he was the very last of his kind. Even if becoming human forever rendered merpeople extinct._ _

__It would be worth it. It would be worth it._ _

__Jack relaxed into the water. He was good with herbs and potions, studying on his own at night and during the day. They would figure out something. Something to change him. Something to make life worth living._ _

__He had just shut his eyes when he heard a faint rumbling. _Thunder?_ The skies were clear, as always, bright and blue and unmarred by clouds._ _

__But it wasn’t coming from the sky. The sound was coming from the trees, like a stampede rushing itself through the forest to trample into Jack’s home._ _

__The merman hid himself behind a rock, peeking his eyes over to find out the cause of the disturbance. A high-pitched whinny struck the amiable quiet afternoon like lightning. Before Jack could duck below the water, a distressed horse burst through the branches and into the clearing, its hooves dragging up grass and dirt as it slowed quicker than its inertia would allow._ _

__It came to a halt at the edge of the lake. The merman didn’t understand how the animal knew to stop there until something previously balanced on its saddle crumpled in on itself and toppled to the ground in a limp heap. Nothing about it moved, except for the sunlight reflecting off of the gleaming material it was covered in._ _

__And then Jack knew._ _

__It was a person._ _

__It was Mark._ _

__Without another thought, Jack sucked in a sharp breath of air before leaping from behind his safe space to swim forward._ _

__“Mark!” he cried out when he reached the place where the water ended and the land began. The body of the king before him was free from all tension, and worse, unmoving. His hand had fallen into the lake, motionless fingers creating cold ripples around themselves._ _

__With all of the strength he could muster in his quivering bones, Jack pushed his friend onto his back so that he was facing up, towards the everlasting sun. Mark was pale, a sweat broken over his forehead._ _

__There was blood all over his hands. More stained his doublet, darkening it significantly._ _

__Jack tore the article of clothing open, breathing becoming labored; his surroundings blurred slightly as his world narrowed into a single, horrible reality._ _

__A gaping wound stared him in the face. It was angry, throbbing out pulse after pulse after pulse of inky red blood. The merman shook his head in disbelief, pressed the doublet back over the injury in an attempt to staunch the flow. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t as bad as it looked, this wasn’t real, wasn’t _real_ …__

__A soft wheeze sounded from the grass. When Jack looked down, he saw a pair of familiar dark eyes fluttering open, blank in understanding, but moving and taking in their surroundings._ _

_He was alive_.

__Jack could feel the slick fluid begin to ooze out of Mark’s clothing; he didn’t know wounds could get this bad. His own hands were beginning to stain, and though at first the warmth of it was unnerving, he noticed that his friend’s breathing was very shallow, and very hoarse, and suddenly the merman’s dripping red hands were the least of his concerns._ _

__“Mark!” he used one hand to shake him into a clearer stream of consciousness. “Mark, get up!”_ _

__Brown eyes turned to Jack’s and, after several eternal moments of slow blinking, they focused. A stale gasp shook the king’s body like an old window pane. “Oh, God,” Mark said, as if he had been asleep for a very long time,“Jack?”_ _

__“Yes, yes, it’s me. It’s me, it’s okay, it’s all okay…” Jack heard himself assure as blood seeped through his fingers. It wouldn’t _stop_. “Let me get my supplies, you’ll be perfectly fine in a few minutes-”_ _

__Mark’s hand was cold as the lake. It grabbed Jack by the forearm, keeping him at the shore, sending frost up his skin._ _

__“Jack.” The king’s voice held no pride. “They got me.”_ _

__“No.” Jack hated himself for whimpering. “I’m gonna fix you up, you’ll be back on your horse in no time. Your people need you.”_ _

__Mark shut his eyes tight through the feeling of it all, breathing out in rough gasps. When Jack looked down, it was to find that the blood had begun to pool around his prone body. “Don’t you know,” Mark said,“that my own people did this to me? My own...my own guards? My own lords?”_ _

__“Then we’ll set them straight,” Jack promised. “We will, but- but first I’m gonna fix this wound, and stop the bleeding, and get you back to your own self again. This kingdom needs a leader like you, Mark. You were meant for this, you were _born_ for this. You can’t abandon it all.”_ _

__Mark’s eyes were lost though, given up hope in recovering what he thought he had had before. Nothing would or could be the same, Jack realized, and nothing could fix the gaping wound that was the king’s trust in his own subjects._ _

__Jack felt his eyes grow warm; he couldn’t figure why, but despite the fact that his throat wanted to close up and his skin had grown clammy, he continued to speak. “I’ll call Suzy, and- and Matthias, they can help you, they know healing better than I do.” But the whistle was with his supplies, and even if his friend weren’t gripping his forearm, Jack didn’t think he would have been able to move._ _

__The patches of the king’s hands that weren’t splattered in blood were a stark snowy contrast with the rich summer colors and the deep scarlet that was beginning to soak into the dirt; they moved to cover Jack’s._ _

__“I just realized,” Mark whispered, breathing beginning to go shallow, “that I never thanked you for everything you’ve done. For me...for the entire kingdom.”_ _

__Jack shook his head. “There’s no time for that, now,” he tried to say, but the other man wouldn’t be silenced._ _

__“You gave me hope and happiness when I had given up on both. You gave me my mother back, and you gave me the strength to do my duty.” Mark’s eyes were wet, and tears slipped from them, down his graying cheeks. “Jack...thank you.”_ _

__“You can thank me later,” the merman insisted. He longed to move away, but somehow the gentleness of Mark’s hands on his own kept him in place with a stronger grip than the previous feeling of his fingers squeezing into his forearm. “I’m going to fix this. The kingdom won’t be burying another king, not on my watch.”_ _

__Mark’s own hands had fallen to his sides, palms facing up towards the sun. The wound was left uncovered. Jack hadn’t known that humans could bleed so much. The royal doublet the king was wearing might have been blue, once, instead of the stain of reddish-brown copper it and the grass were being washed in._ _

__Mark’s lips twitched into a sad smile. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “Remember that, please.”_ _

__“No. No, you’re not leaving me,” Jack said, voice firmer than he had ever been able to muster in his life of over a century. “I lost my whole family, I’m not going to lose you.” Humans were supposed to live longer than this; Mark hadn’t even seen thirty years yet, he was sure._ _

__And this human...Jack was sure that Mark was special. He had to have been created under someone’s careful touch to be this kind, this passionate, to be a person who wore clothes furnished from the sun’s own rays, a person whose hair was a sliver of the night’s black beauty, stolen while the moon wasn’t looking._ _

“Everyone on this Earth,” Jack whispered, “is a star, burning up on the ground before dying and returning to the vast blackness above us. You’re the kingdom’s North Star, guiding your people to peace and prosperity. Your time isn’t now, Mark. You’re our _sun_.”

__Tears littered the ground, bending the delicate grass- but not from the king. Jack’s shoulders began to shake without control, and he found that he couldn’t stop the cloudburst in his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me in such a short amount of time,” he confessed; his eyes were lined pink, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “This can’t be the end, Mark.”_ _

__Mark’s fingers twitched and curled in the grass, and he blinked furiously at the sun ahead of them, golden light blinding but glorious. His brown eyes, sincere as always, were locked onto the merman’s._ _

__“Whatever happens, just know that...you’re one of my best friends, Jack,” the king said. "I trust you." Jack’s fingers gripped the other man’s heaving chest, willing it to even out and for his precarious condition to stabilize long enough for the merman to swim over and retrieve the tools and medicines he needed._ _

__He needed Mark to be okay. Just for a moment._ _

__Just for a moment._ _

__“You’re going to be alright.” Jack connected his forehead to that of his friend, letting the hot tears whisper down his cheeks and stain the skin there. “Just hold on. I’ll fix this.” One hand bunched into the other man’s clothing while the other found Mark’s hand and squeezed tight, gripping him like a lifeline. He’d fix this._ _

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Mark. Everything is gonna be alright. Everything is going to be _just fine…_ ”

__The words repeated themselves in echoes as the world stilled and became a silent wasteland._ _

* * *

__The clearing was as it had always been: The quiet lake, and the soft breeze. This season was quiet. Spring had reached its end some weeks ago, the leaves having darkened in color and the flowers having falling from the branches. Some still remained in the lake, the water reflecting the blue sky, the petals porcelain white against the earthy colors._ _

__The lake was spacious and deep, and, perhaps best of all, located in the middle of the woods where it would not be bothered but in passing. The summer months were by far the best of each year, when the water was cool, the leaves were the richest green, and the wind kissed the earth like a child._ _

__A constant _drip, drip, drip_ interrupted the peace._ _

__The lake water rippled with the steady beat as the shore let shallow rivulets of blood collect at the edge before spilling over like a minute waterfall, dying it pink, then black, then red. Slowly, slowly, it trickled in, polluting the purity of the lake._ _

__Jack’s body shook, racked with sobs. A summer breeze swept over his clearing, as if to calm him, but it was gone in the next second, leaving him to himself._ _

__Mark lay very still in the grass._ _

__Jack was alone._ _

__The merman’s fingers tightened and relaxed. The king’s brown eyes stared flat at the perfect sky, empty where they had held a soul, and the once-blue cloth had no more shimmer to it, even though the sunlight was just as bright as it had always been. The fabric crumpled in one of Jack's hands; the slack fingers of the king wrapped loosely around the other’s._ _

__Jack pressed his cheek against his friend’s forehead like he had no other choice, like he’d crumble if he didn’t; the king’s cold skin was already damp with tears. Time was nothing, nothing but a waste. Jack had never felt anything so sharply before, like how a bubble feels a pinprick that breaks away what it thought would be its being, its foreverness._ _

__Jack allowed himself to weep into the cold body beneath him._ _

__Time was a waste, a terrible concept, a terrible reality. What good was there in life when time existed, always leaving you with nothing in the end? How much longer would his other friends survive? What good was living for hundreds of years when everyone you loved was already gone?_ _

__The sun shone on, its rays resting themselves on the merman’s bare back as if they were arms wrapping themselves around his skin. Jack wondered if it was Mark, already in the cosmos where he belonged._ _

__The sun shone on._ _

__At least that would last forever._ _


	10. The Moon, The Sun, and The North Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind  
> I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom  
> But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,  
> That spot which no vicissitude can find?  
> Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—  
> But how could I forget thee?—Through what power,  
> Even for the least division of an hour,  
> Have I been so beguiled as to be blind  
> To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return  
> Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,  
> Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,  
> Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;  
> That neither present time, nor years unborn  
> Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
> 
> -William Wordsworth

The lake was leafy at the edges, a floating forest where the algae had grown and never been cleaned away. Small children would scoop up some to play with and threaten to touch others with it until their parents scolded them, while students would examine it, teenage boys poke at it, women turn up their noses at it. Many of the visitors, who had enjoyed admiring themselves in its reflection for many years, used sticks to ward off the sudden slimy plants, doing their best to keep it clean.

Each day they returned to a green lake.

In time, they learned to bring mirrors.

Though its usual blue waters and rocks were seeming to rot with moss and algae, many villagers who knew the way preferred the shade of the surrounding trees to the hot, cracked mud and steaming cobblestones of the marketplace.

The talk of the town was the castle, the government, the king. Friends and lovers dipping their feet into the water would gossip about how “Right, there, where your hand is, was where he was-”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It’s true! Be careful, is there any blood on your hand? Let me see-!”

“Be serious for once, Ross! He was our king. Show some respect.”

A pair of blue eyes sunk back into the water when the voices grew silent. But he was always there, listening, hair caked in algae. He barely made a ripple.

A new ruler had been crowned almost immediately. The late young king’s widow had been married to the archduke three days following the murder of the last monarch and coronated on the same day. The festivities were no less grand; the air had been stifled with discomfort, as many were still mourning their late young king and refused to wear any color other than black (it was reported that some of these people were reprimanded harshly, or even fined, for this choice in attire, but these were only rumors).

The new king and queen had new personal guards as well, and information on them was obscure and trifling; the king’s former guards were reportedly off in the center region of the kingdom with large swaths of land to rule and reap the benefits of.

He listened to all this when the visitors sat by the lake.

They only stopped coming when it rained.

The first rain of that summer came nearly two weeks after the season began, relaxing the dust into dirt and the dirt into mud, feeding the forest and cutting off the sun.

The villagers remained inside and mourned.

It was on that day that Jack emerged from his lake.

The shadows lining his long face showed his true age: An old creature, alone, landlocked, with no legs to take him away. The water he had lived in his entire life felt cold, a foreign graveyard that stuck to his skin like blood and stung his eyes until they teared.

The clouds covering the sky turned the forest into a grayscale mural, all color washed away from leaves, flowers, and fruit by the rain. It had even cleaned the blood from the grass next to the lake.

Long, pale fingers glided over the spot. The wet ground bent to his will. The blades of grass grazed over his skin and bowed under the rain as if in lament, as if they were the only other ones to know what had happened there and share in his grief. Even after the body had been taken, even after the blood had washed away, even after everyone else had forgotten.

Jack pressed his forehead into the mud. Even after everyone else had put away their black robes, he would remember.

The mages had sat with the merman for a day, to keep him company and grieve for the friend they had never known. Jack had begged them for a spell, a potion, a poultice, sworn that he would drag himself onto land and allow his body to dry out if it would help. Suzy had to seize him by the shoulders and shake him before she could explain to him that death was the one thing that no one could reverse. The king’s fate was set in stone, all the blood spilt from his veins, and no incantation could change that or raise him from his forever-sleep.

“What we can do now,” Matthias had advised,“is pray for him. He’s a star, now. His place is in the heavens.”

Jack didn’t want to pray. He wanted his friend back. It would be better to sink into the bottom of the lake and let the cold sand turn his body as frigid as Mark’s had been before the two humans had found him and taken him back to the castle. Then the forever-sleep could take him too, so he could rest without dreaming of blank eyes and still fingers and cold, stiff flesh.

There was no blessing given by the Queen Regent to the new rulers. When she was informed of the fate of her last child, she locked herself in the highest tower of the castle. Her body was not found until dawn, lying prone on the harsh cobblestones of the courtyard that had cracked bones and spirit both.

And so the entire royal line of Fischbach was extinguished with the most recent tragedy, though much of it had been overshadowed by the archduke’s swift marriage and coronation. It had been accompanied by a memorial service for the murdered king and his mother, where the windows of the castle were covered by black drapes and a prayer given by all in attendance.

Jack had never felt more isolated before, even though he was no more trapped than he had been his entire life. He knew the taste of being free now, though, and it was like a knife in his chest to realize every moment that his one faithful friend was gone. It was worse than not being able to walk. Now there was no point in wanting to walk at all.

It was like this every day.

The mages came more often than they used to, but only at first. They soon forgot about the old king, and would greet Jack with smiles; these vanished into awkward frowns when they realized that he was still not his usual chipper self.

They would attempt to entice him with new potions and magic spells (“You’ll like this one, it tastes like peppermint and mulberries, let me show you how to make it!”), but the scent of belladonna and a glimpse of orange flowers from their bags made bile rise in his throat and his temper spike, and it wasn’t long before his only friends were retreating back into the forest with wary glances over their shoulders.

Jack saw red a second time, furious now at himself for driving them away. An innocent rock was squeezed in his fist and hurled at a tree; he watched as some of the bark exploded away from its home, leaving a scar.

 _It’s better that they’re gone, anyway,_ Jack told himself. Yes, better. He was better off without Suzy and Matthias. They weren’t looking out for him, they just wanted a way to entertain themselves. They never visited regularly like how Mark used to.

And they would always sit in the spot where Mark used to sit, where he had been the very last time Jack saw him. They were taunting Jack by sitting there, they knew everything and that’s why they sat there.

_Better without them. Better without them._

But he wanted his old life back. He wanted to hear Suzy and Matthias sing and make poultices for the market. He wanted to listen to the music of the townspeople’s festivals and twirl around in the lake to the rhythms. He wanted to be able to go near that spot in the grass like he used to. If the mages would just apologize for sitting in that spot everything would be alright again, even though it wouldn’t.

More than anything, he wanted the pain to end.

Jack wanted to fall asleep to the sound of cricket’s lullabies without worrying about the nightmares, the nightmares. He wanted that spot in the grass to crumble away and sink into the lake and become one with the water. He wanted to sink with it, become the lake, fade into it. He wanted the feeling of Mark’s hot, sticky blood to wash away from his skin once and for all so he could stop scrubbing away at himself fruitlessly.

The lake was green with the algae that stuck to Jack’s hair. Dark circles grew under his eyes with each sleepless night. The mages didn’t come around anymore. The human visitors dwindled when the rotting image of the lake didn’t change.

Jack recalled one certain young man who would come back often to tune his stringed instrument and play for the trees, the birds, the fish, and, though the minstrel was never aware of it, a merman.

Like all of the other humans that visited before the archduke had become king, Jack was enamored with this one. He was thin, had messy hair- dark brown, nearly black, like a dusky forest trail, and a fair complexion. His voice was sweet and his talent unrivaled.

The stories were the best part. This minstrel was certainly younger than the king had been, and he had memorized dozens of epics about princesses locked in towers, warriors bathed in blood and locked in combat with their mortal enemies, explorers lost at sea with nothing but their wits to survive, dragons guarding treasures in far-off lands.

Long before the summer tragedy of the Fischbach line, on an autumn morning, this minstrel let himself laze next to the lake, his back against the tree, plucking out a sad little melody on his instrument, creating lyrics as he went.

“ _Lullay, lullay, thou little tiny child..._ ” the minstrel sang to no one in general.

A friend had been with him, daydreaming contentedly. Jack had watched from behind a larger rock in the lake.

“When’ll you be leaving?” the friend asked as the minstrel strummed and murmured half-lyrics.

“In two days,” the minstrel replied, never looking away from his fingers, always plucking, finding the right notes. “A lord from the southern region needs a musician for his daughter’s wedding. He claims to be a descendent of some unbeatable warrior, so he’s asked for a night of heroic epics.”

“They say that people who get famous in the southern region never die,” the friend said with a smirk, scratching at his beard. “Maybe you’ll be ‘Ethan the Bard'. Your music will be played for generations!”

The minstrel laughed. “I’ll be lucky enough to be paid in full. Nothing lasts forever, not even memories.”

Jack had thought that a philosophy like that was very curious, but didn’t have time to think about it before the minstrel- Ethan, with the bright voice and dusky hair- had opened his mouth to sing again, voice smoothing over any threat of brisk winds.

“ _Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea...et a peccato meo munda me...Quoniam iniquitatem meam ego cognosco..._ ”

Jack could hear the lost voice in his head. He would clean the lake of all of its algae just for this man, just to hear his voice and feel a little less lonely. He’d clean it just to see the mages once more.

Night had begun to fall, cooling the earth from the summer heat the sun had given it. _When had that happened?_ Jack wondered briefly, but the thought only flittered through his mind before he released it. Time was not important. Time was the enemy.

The lost soul floated in his lake, watching the stars blink into sight one by one. He wondered which one was Mark.

Jack whispered the minstrel’s song to himself.

Time was the enemy. How many days and nights had it been since Mark had been lost? Hadn’t it been just yesterday that it had rained for the first time? No, yesterday was the last time the mages had visited. But the scar in the tree hadn’t been fresh for some time now, so yesterday had to have been the last day Ethan had sang for him before heading south. No, no, that was months back, that was years…

It was then that Jack realized that he was alone.

He had frightened off the mages, warded away the villagers, lost his entire family nearly a century ago, and failed to save the one friend who visited him regularly and trusted him wholeheartedly despite Jack speaking nearly nothing but lies to him.

“ _...et peccatum meum contra me est semper…_ ”

The stars twinkled to life as the sparse clouds were chased away. The full, milky moon outlined the forest in silver. It was on nights like this that Jack could see the castle from the lake, the tower’s torches like fireflies. It was just as beautiful as it had always been before he had met the prince, just as magnificent to gaze upon.

Jack couldn’t bear to look at it.

“Libera me de sanguinibus…”

A fog was trickling in through the trees, slow and thick like blood spilling into water. It lingered on the edges of the clearing as it filled the forest, making it near impossible to see past the tree line. It whispered into the grass, as pale as the moon.

Jack floated on his back in the silver water of the lake, feeling that spot in the grass staring into him and keeping him awake. It could see him whether he was underwater or not, no matter how much algae dirtied his brown hair, no matter how many times he tried to bury himself under the mud at the bottom of the lake, no matter how he attempted to hide from its gaze.

He didn’t remember swimming over, but suddenly he was there, next to that spot, hands roaming over the grass as if it were as fragile as his legs had been. He bowed his back and breathed into the dirt, unable to convey his love and his hatred for this little piece of Mother Earth. The place where Mark used to sit. The place where he had been taken away.

His hands were fists, now, tense. Jack didn’t remember doing that, either. But they were already grabbing handfuls of the grass, tugging and tearing in frenzies of red and silver until there was nothing left but dirt to absorb the salt of his sweat and tears.

There was nothing left for Jack. No more visits from the mages, no castle visits or balls or legs to dance on. All he had left was a lonely lake, a patch of wet dirt, and two fistfuls of grass.

His body slumped forward into the earth he had desecrated, lungs gasping in huge, dry breaths of air that came out as breathy sobs. His body trembled with the violence of grief that bent his neck forward and left tear tracks on his cheeks. The lake could have been an ocean for how much salt it had collected.

A breeze breathed over his skin, picking up several blades of the torn-up grass and making them dance, swirling into a broken saltarello above his head. A sudden chill encased the clearing in a bubble, as if summer had decided to end itself early and bring the wind to snap away all of the leaves. Jack barely noticed, only trembled and cried, nothing more than a leaf himself. His right hand loosened and let the grass free, palm facing up as if reaching for something.

But there was nothing left. He was alone.

Jack sobbed, Ethan’s voice fading away in his head until he could barely remember the words to the song.

Just above his head, the wind whistled low, like Mother Earth sighing through the planet, rustling the leaves and bringing with it melancholy life.

Something rested itself in Jack’s open palm, soft and innocent, heavy on his mind.

The merman brought his head up slightly to see. Through the blur of his tears, he recognized it as more than a wayward plant.

Jack let the grass fall away from his other hand and let the fingers reach for the flower into his palm, not daring to touch it more than gently, afraid of tearing its snowy petals with his trembling fingers. Where had it come from? There were no more flowers in the trees, and all that had fallen into the lake had withered and sunk.

A pair of boots stepped into his line of sight.

Jack’s heart clenched in his throat. Someone had found him. The king had sent someone to investigate the lake and was ready in his castle through the trees to greet a real life freak, a toy, something to gawk at.

Or maybe something to execute.

His hand steadied at that thought.

“Who are you?” Jack said at last. He didn’t dare look away from the boots.

His question was never answered, not directly. The owner of the boots was gazing down at him with intent, Jack could feel the eyes boring into his skull. If he was going to be taken away, he preferred for all of the small talk to be over and done with.

A voice as familiar as Jack’s own spoke to him.

“You know the answer, Jack. You know me.”

The grass in his hand fluttered away into the fog as all feeling in his body left him, eyes seeing only the blinding white of the flower in his palm. “No, no, no,” he murmured. “No, no.”

“I know, I’m sorry, this is- it’s unexpected, I know.”

“No- no!” Jack was too shocked to sob. “You’re not supposed to _be_ here- how- how-”

The boots collapsed to give way to knees, never making a sound. Jack shut his eyes and shook his head, tears slipping away to stain his cheeks.

“No, no,” he whispered.

“Please...please look at me.”

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the blurry pair of knees sinking into the mud next to his lake. Jack shook his head, crying silently, unable to believe it.

Mark looked just as he had the last time he had visited the lake. He hadn’t aged like Jack had, didn’t look any older, even though it had only been a week or two. His clothes were undoubtedly the same, the same blue top and black trousers and boots. All of the filth was gone, though- clean, no dirt, no water, no bloodstains. His hair even looked like it had been combed, of all things.

Jack reached his hand out, eyes on the mermaid insignia. The flash of an image- the very same hand of his black with blood, resting on the blue doublet, the only movement his own trembling bones- ultimately stopped his fingers inches from his friend’s chest.

Jack’s lower lip was nearing its breaking point as it is was agitated by his teeth. He let his hand lower as he looked Mark in the eyes.

“You died.”

Mark blinked his full eyes in understanding. “I’m sorry,” he responded, as if they weren’t talking about him.

A ball of wet frustration forced itself up into Jack’s throat. “What do you mean you’re _sorry?_ I said you died! I was there, I saw you!”

The human never lost his cool, just blinked and spoke.

“It’s okay to be upset. I know.”

Mark always knew what to say, even after he had died.

Jack wasn’t the same as before, though, like how Mark was. He had changed, had shrunken into an old sea hag with no purpose in life but to scare off visitors. His vision went red, then black, and then he saw blood covering his hands, black staining scarlet, shoving his weight into a wounded chest; when he came back to himself, he found that it was dirt, and not blood, that was all over his hands, and that he was pounding his fists into the ground- the spot- in a blind fury. The flower lay abandoned next to Mark’s knee.

Mark just watched him, as if he understood everything.

He breathed heavily and finally slowed, then stopped, his fists. “What are you doing here, anyway?” Jack cried before he could stop himself, turning to the former king. “What? To- to mock me? To remind me of how- alone I am?”

“Jack-”

“You can’t just come back to life and stare at me!” he interrupted. “You _died!_ Doesn’t that mean anything to you? You’re supposed to be at peace, you’re supposed to become a star for people to follow, not some thing in the woods!” He had never felt this way before, not so fervently.

Mark pressed his lips together for a brief moment before relaxing them back to how they were; his fingers were curled loosely around each other where they rested on his legs. He didn’t fidget or shift in his position, and for some reason it was the most vexatious thing to have to watch.

“Why are you here?” Jack yelled. He had a chest full of cannons that burst and burst against his ribs, crafted a smoke cloud that rose to his throat and poured out of his mouth as brittle curses, stinging his eyes until tears flooded over. “You have no reason to be here! I don’t want you here! This is _my_ lake!”

Jack began picking up stones, pebbles, fistfuls of dirt and mud, anything he could grasp, and hurled them all at where Mark kneeled before him. He couldn’t see through the tears, the image of the king lying dead before him that was etched into the backs of his eyelids, and couldn’t tell if he was simply missing his target or every solid object went right through Mark.

“You damn humans took my family! You took my hope! You took my friends! You took me!” he screamed. “So go! Just go! Just go!”

It was all true. Jack had no one. He didn’t know who he was anymore. He was either furious or numb to the bone. There were no thoughts or fantasies that thrilled him, no plans for the future that fueled him with hope, with wonder. What kind of life was one where all there was to do was float around and hide from sleep?

The spot next to the lake where Mark had died was gone, void, its whole being torn away. It was a hole that Jack had ripped up and tossed aside in his consternation, a barren ditch, cold and numb.

“Why are you here?” the merman wept, crushing the mud between his hands and letting it seep like blood.

Jack wasn’t sure if he hated or envied how impassive Mark had kept himself through the entire tantrum, soft as the silver fog and letting the anger twist his friend into knots and fraying scars. When he spoke, it was quiet, tone even.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jack.”

The only sound of the forest was the patter of mud droplets leaking between lax fingers. Jack breathed out as if he never had before and allowed himself to begin to fill back up.

_It wasn't your fault._

“I…”

“There was nothing you could have done. The injury was too severe.”

“I...I don’t-”

“You were there for me when I needed you. You tried.”

The mud suddenly felt warm as it puddled in the newly-formed hole.

“You _cared._ That’s what a true friend is there to do. You did the right thing.” He leaned forward slightly to repeat himself.

“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

A heartbeat. Jack’s. The merman remembered it from long ago, the triumphant cannons forcing it faster as he twirled in a dance. The feeling wasn’t exactly the same, but there. It was there.

“I’m so sorry this all happened,” Mark murmured. “To you, especially. You were so innocent. But maybe that’s changed for the better.” His eyes could see clear through Jack’s skull as he spoke, wide and sparkling as the night. “It doesn’t make you any less virtuous. I know you, even if you don’t. You’re _noble._ You’re a strong friend. I know this about you.”

Jack swallowed all of this, nearly choking. “What about you?” he asked.

Mark’s eyes were no less omnipotent, but his smile was melancholy. “I’m stuck. I can’t move on.”

“A ghost,” the merman muttered. Mark neither confirmed nor denied this, just continued.

“The guards who killed me are free, and so is the person who hired them. They’re all living cushioned lives without cares, without worries. Once my death is avenged, then I can go. But not before.” The former king pursed his lips. “Until then, I’m stuck.”

For the first time since he had arrived, Mark looked uncomfortable, unsure, even. Pained. “But...not here, specifically. I think I can reach other places, and if you’d be more comfortable alone, then you don’t have to see me. I’m only afraid that if I wander, I won’t be able to come back.”

His back stiffened, a sign that he had just made a difficult decision; something he didn’t want to do, but knew that he had to.

“If it’s what you want...I’ll leave. I’ve hurt you enough already, Jack. No more.” He shut his eyes. “No more.”

Jack watched as he stood and nodded to the merman. Mark seemed to shimmer somehow, in the silver lining of the fog, or perhaps flicker like a candle in the late Queen’s chambers, back when she spent her days and nights mourning, her skin made sallow from lack of sunlight. He had no shadow, no purpose, no body- but here he was, willing to leave again, into some mystery of the Other world.

The dead king turned and began to leave, moving towards the trees; the fog began to withdraw, the clearing began to fade back to the dull brown and gray it had been since the king had died; the sun and moon had no power any longer.

“Wait!”

Mark turned around. Stood. Waited, as he was asked.

Jack’s arm was outstretched, reaching, and for some reason he didn’t dare lower it, as if the ghost would disappear from some sort of grasp. After a long silence, however, he moved his arm, let it reach down as he kept his eyes on his dead friend.

When he raised his hand, it held the white chrysanthemum.

* * *

It was the first warm day since winter had relinquished its hold on the kingdom. The tree blossoms poked open warily, afraid of another snowfall, waiting to see if they needed to hide for another week or so.

“There’ll be visitors coming soon,” Jack remarked.

“That’s how every summer will go,” Mark hummed from his spot in the grass. He looked faded in the sunlight, like sheer seaweed. He wasn’t whole.

But, then again, neither was Jack, really. The nightmares had never ceased, only gotten less frequent. He could have been just another trick of the light, because sometimes, he felt like one. When he would wake up, when he would see the spot, which was now a dip of dirt that was covered in only a stubble of grass, when he would catch a glimpse of the castle over the trees.

As the years had passed, however, he had begun to feel more like his old self. Whenever he would slowly let the water float him to the top of the lake, face breaking the surface gently, gently, Jack could let himself be fooled into thinking that he had never been to the castle, that he was still just an innocent thing that would watch humans come and go and have a passing conversation with the prince every now and then.

In those slow moments every morning, Jack could have sworn he could still hear the young minstrel’s song clear as the day.

Things were not the same, of course, but they were getting better.

The mages, at long last, returned to the lake. They knelt by the water with their satchels and the scent of cloves and cinnamon, prepared to try and forget their previous fight. Jack didn’t want to forget it- he wanted to talk about it and try to explain to them how he felt, why it had happened, but he could see that they would rather brew potions than listen to something like that. So he kept quiet.

Mark was the only one he told about it.

They would come a few times a week, the mages, enjoying the lake and Jack’s company. Mark was never there, but that was most likely for the best.

He told them of the dreams, the nightmares, asked them what they meant.

Suzy had her lips pursed in concentration. “You’ve encountered a great evil: Corruption. It comes in many forms. Greed, manipulation, grief. Some of it you could never change, but you’ve won more battles against it than you’ve lost. You fought against it with truth and altruism.” She opened her eyes. “You’ve seen terrible things. You’ve suffered. You feel guilt over what you didn’t change that you had no power over. That’s why you have nightmares.”

Jack didn’t feel satisfied with the answer he was given. “But...what does it mean?”

“Simply that. But remember this- just because people suffer doesn’t mean it’s because of you. You’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt. You have nothing to worry about.”

They made several more visits, as time passed. It was at some point, not too many years after the prince’s death, that they sat next to the lake for the last time.

Jack had never been good with time; years felt the same as days, most times, though he understood change and growth and all that. Suzy and Matthias sat in front of him, certainly older, in the subtle way you see your loved ones change in the laugh lines in their cheeks and the way their eyes crinkle differently when they smile, the way they style their hair. The air still flowed cold, but the snow was melting for the last time in the season before spring would grow anew.

Jack looked the same as he had five years before. Merpeople didn’t change much. To them, five years was the blink of an eye. Change was gradual, the way nature changes over the course of a year, season by season. Gradual.

Change like this, just out of the blue...he still wasn’t good at handling it.

“Where...do you plan on going?” he asked. “Somewhere else in the kingdom?”

Matthias shook his head. “The kingdom is no place for us any longer. Before the plague, more people were tolerant of magic, things that were not ‘normal’. But then your people- well, you know. People took it as a sign. They assumed that it was meant to be, that because more humans than merpeople had survived, things that weren’t normal shouldn’t exist.”

“We were happy when Mark was coronated,” Suzy added. “Hopeful. He was younger, so we thought maybe he would be less- well, more forward-thinking. Not as moved by gossip.” She considered her words carefully by pursing her lips together. “We should have expected a plot. Two members of the royal family don’t just die without something suspicious going on.”

Jack reached forward and placed one hand on Suzy’s, one hand on Matthias’s. “It’s not your fault.”

Suzy gave a little smile. “And it’s not yours, either.”

“I’m sorry that we have to go,” Matthias sighed. “But with this new king, things have been moving backwards. We’ve barely been able to go into town without people asking if we’re magic, or if we’ve seen anything ‘unlawfully out of the ordinary’. It’s simply not safe for us here any longer.”

Jack shut his eyes gently and nodded. “I understand.”

“We’ll be traveling to the mountains,” Suzy confided,“to study a stronger magic. There’s a woman there who’s been teaching mages since before this kingdom came to be.”

“We’ll set out in a carriage in a few days,” Matthias said. “After that, we sail to the mountains.”

Jack looked up at them. “And you’re not coming back.”

Neither of them could look away, eyes watering.

Suzy shook her head. “No. No, we’re not.”

* * *

The harsh trot of a horse- two horses, he realized- was sounding towards the clearing, alerting Jack to duck under the water, slip away to the larger rock so he could peer around without getting caught.

The first human to burst through the clearing was a young woman, her horse black and shimmering under the autumn sunrays; she was dressed in black trousers, boots of the same color, with a green doublet that sported the outline of a goose on the chest. Her hair was long, light brown, turning nearly blonde in the afternoon light. She looked incredibly familiar as she stopped her horse and let it drink from the lake.

The second person was an older man, who looked considerably out of breath, and too overdressed for riding through the woods. He was pulling on the satchel that hung over his shoulder, attempting to reach inside after he had stopped his own animal.

“I’m surprised you were able to keep up,” the woman remarked, hauling herself off of her horse onto the floor of the clearing. “I thought you had given up ages ago.”

“Your- your Royal Highness,” the man panted, wiping his brow with a handkerchief before running his hands through his salt and pepper hair, “please, you must look at these documents and think about your people-”

“I know what my people need,” the young woman cut in. “What they need are tax cuts. What they need is protection from thieves and muggers in the streets of their own village. They don’t need a king who embezzles all of the money meant to go into building a new medical facility so that he can purchase ten horses that he doesn’t need!”

The older man had clambered off of his horse to go pale at her words and sputter out some form of argument. She gazed at him as he did this, considering her words and his frantic state.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she assured, pulling an apple out of her saddle bag. “I’ll tell the king myself that his daughter refuses to marry. No matter how many documents you pull out, I can assure you that there isn’t a single one that insists that I have to have a husband.”

“Your parents are getting old-”

“Yes, too old to run a kingdom, I think is what everyone is saying. And as their only child, it falls on me to inherit the throne, married or not.” She bit into her apple; the loud snap of it breaking beneath her teeth echoed through the clearing, silencing the birds for a long moment.

The older man sighed, resigning himself to the truth; he stroked his beard in worry. “You are...correct, Your Highness. I just hope your parents take it well.”

She strode over and clapped him on the shoulder, smiling. “I have to do what’s best for the kingdom. And that’s ruling it on my own. What foreign chitty-faced prince is going to know the place where I was born and raised better than me?” She sighed. “Everything will be alright, Ken.”

The old man smiled and nodded at her. “I believe you. And I support you all the way.”

* * *

It was summer again. With each year, the humidity became drier than the last, the rains grew more and more sparse, the sun seemed to grow closer, peering through the atmosphere to crack the hardened soil.

There were no visitors. They sky was blue. The air was quiet.

Jack had to dip himself back underwater every few minutes to keep cool, his hair drying like sticks in a fire. When the sun was highest overhead, he broke the surface of the water again to find Mark sitting there, at the edge of the lake, staring off past the trees in the direction of the palace. In such vibrant sunlight, Jack could see clear through the former king to the trees behind him.

Jack didn’t usually see Mark during the day, and said so. He wasn’t given an answer.

He thought he heard faint music, off in the distance, the low throaty tones of the bagpipes rattling through the earth. Jack could feel it in the water’s ripple, in how the fish scattered about his tail.

At long last, Mark spoke.

“The king and queen are dead.”

Jack turned his head to gaze at him, into him. He prayed to the stars for a good answer. “How?”

Mark turned his head up towards the sun. “It’s been years since you attended that ball, Jack. Humans simply don’t live that long.”

“But-” Jack sputtered out, overwhelmed. “If it’s been years, then how did nobody find out? Don’t you have consequences, punishments?”

“Jack-”

“They take everything you have and make you suffer even after die, but they get to live as royals and die comfortably? This isn’t fair! What about those guards, can’t we find them and- and-”

Jack realized what he was saying, and stopped himself. Revenge simply wasn’t the answer. But if Mark wanted to move on...it was the only answer, wasn’t it?

“I don’t...I don’t understand.”

Mark didn’t speak, as if to make sure that Jack was finished interrupting him. Finally, he said, “Humans are greedy creatures. Even some form of gratification that won’t last long is enough to get them to betray everything they’ve ever known. The people who are responsible for my death were already well-off, or wealthy enough to support themselves and a family. The promise of more was enough to motivate them, though.”

Jack stared down at the water, then up towards the trees where he knew the castle was. Had he been the only one who hadn’t wanted Mark dead? When he himself had been accused, what had that been? How many people had been using him as a scapegoat?

He couldn’t bear to look at Mark. “What about you?”

The sun was so unbearable Jack could feel his throat drying up. Or maybe it was from the fear he felt, learning the truth.

He could feel Mark looking at him, but he couldn’t move, now that he understand what his worth was in the world of humans.

“Like I told you,” Mark responded. “I’m stuck.”

They lingered there, together, at the lake, for years to come.

* * *

Felix’s daughter had been right- she didn’t need to get married in order to rule effectively. She was crowned queen just two days after her parents were buried, with no spouse to speak of. Of the many visitors that sat by the lake, enduring the summer swelter or the sticky leaves that fell in the autumn, they spoke in hushed praises, happy with her decisions.

Sometimes Jack wondered they would say if Mark was still king.

At some point, the faces of the people Jack recognized changed into new familiar faces; he was never good at keeping track of time. They spoke in the same tone about the same person, but the monarch now had a different name, a different disposition, and didn’t quite live up to the reputation of the one who had preceded him.

The guards, Dan and Arin, were long gone, just as Felix and Marzia were, no doubt having lived lush, quiet lives as the sole rulers of the kingdom that they hadn’t earned, not a bit.

“This is the human condition,” Mark would murmur into the night as Jack gazed up at the wisps of clouds, the stars that would whisper stories to astronomers and the pale moon that illuminated the leaves and water and flowers in mercury. “Birth, growth, emotions, aspirations. And, ultimately, death. We don’t see everything as equal, like your people did. We’re not one with everything. Humans all learn differently, and some are taught to do what they must for what they want, no matter the consequences for others.”

His tone was even, with no hint of malice; what he was saying was true, so that Jack would understand without feeling as though he were being tricked or patronized.

“Humans would throw away a friendship for...an object?” Jack asked, feeling tears well in his eyes.

“Power corrupts, Jack,” Mark said. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Jack found that he hated watching the birds fly overhead; he would think of Matthias and Suzy, faithful friends from decades ago, monarchs ago. They had promised that they would send letters with a bird once they reached their destination. What type of bird, Jack didn’t know, and he didn’t know how long it would take for them to get to the mountains, either. Once they were there, though, safe among other mages after a perilous journey, they would write.

The letters never came.

Sometimes he would have nightmares about a ship dipping underneath a black bloody ocean, lightning painting the scene white. He would watch the wreck sink into the pool, arms grasping at wood to try and stay afloat. There were no screams over the crashes of the waves.

Other times, the ship survived, and all aboard, as well. But the mountains were quiet, cold, and empty, a scam. A deathtrap. The two figures grew smaller the more they searched for their equals, until they disappeared beneath the snow altogether. Jack would wake from this dream in the summer months uncomfortable, even in the cool caves at the bottom of his lake.

With each year, it became more difficult for Jack to enjoy the summer days; the heat was intense, especially for a merman, who was always in danger of drying up. Mark wasn’t around while the sun was out, anyway. By the time Felix’s great-granddaughter had taken up the throne, Jack spent his days in the quiet nooks in the darkness of the lake, chasing around the fish and gazing up at the sun.

Yes, things were very different than they had once been.

“I’m sure Felix would be proud of himself, wherever he is,” Jack remarked one night, watching the fireflies as he and Mark ignored the lowered water level water of the lake. “He’s created quite the lineage.”

“Centuries of heirs, and you still look as young as you did the day we met,” Mark reminisced. He looked almost whole again in the moonlight. “Hang on- wait a second.” He reached out to Jack’s hair. “Is that some silver I’m seeing?”

“Hey!” Jack joked with a smile, leaning away. “I’ve been alive since before you were born! You can’t fault me for a few gray hairs!”

“Oh, it’s more than a few-”

Jack felt a few giggles escape him as a firefly buzzed past his eyes.

The climate change was slow; it took its time, but it did its damage. With each summer, each dry and unforgiving summer, the water level sunk a little.

“There’s not enough rain to compensate,” Mark murmured to him one evening, afraid to speak it. “Unless the summers change drastically, this will continue.”

Jack was so numb that he couldn’t even feel the water around him. He kept his eyes on the moon above him.

“I know.”

It changed by centimeters, mere centimeters. It was nothing noticeable, just inches of water disappearing with each scalding summer day.

Years and years and year passed. With each new monarch, Jack felt the growing anxiety of his shrinking home. He could feel Mark’s eyes on him as he searched frantically for a leak, something he could clog to preserve what water he had left.

At night, Jack would float. Each summer, the night sky would become farther away.

“Jack.”

It was the first time Jack had heard anything other than a resigned quiet in Mark’s voice. The name quivered from his lips as if he had never spoken it before.

“I’m here.”

“It’s been two hundred and eighty years.”

“It has.”

“Do you remember what I said to you, on the day I was killed?”

Jack wished he didn’t. “You...thanked me,” he responded, thinking of the blood that had been all over his hands.

“And do you remember what you said to me?”

_Everything’s gonna be alright. Everything is gonna be alright. Everything is going to be just fine…_

Jack breathed in. He breathed out. “Yes.”

“Don’t think of anything else from that day,” Mark said. His voice melted in with the breeze rustling the leaves and grass. “Just remember what you told me.”

It was easier said than done.

When he locked eyes with Mark, though, they shared a small, sad smile. Everything would be fine.

After all, they had each other, for now.

* * *

It was cloudy, adding an extra chill to the air that Mark couldn’t feel. The moon was the only thing uncovered, floating down a soft blanket of light upon the kingdom.

There was no reason for him to linger at the lake any longer, as he had for so many hundreds of years. He would wander the woods, gliding past the trees, over the dew-dropped grass, letting the wind sweep through him. The lithe deer would let him approach them, bound nearly through him. He had no need to eat, so why not? He hadn’t needed for anything since he had become stuck.

He would sometimes come across humans, in the night, in the day, stepping where the mages used to step, telling each other stories to frighten each other, wondering why the lake had simply dried away to leave a soggy hole in the woods.

No matter what, Mark always found himself back at the lake.

The days were cheerful for visitors, those who would sit in the clearing, enjoying the shade and the peaceful warmth the sun brought them. It felt as though they were desecrating something sacred, sitting where Mark used to, letting the golden sun rays play upon them like a blanket.

Those who wandered into the forest at night would find themselves complaining of a sudden chill, cursing whatever gods they believed in for alerting the deer they planned on poaching.

The night was dark, and fragile. The night was when the stars would look down upon the living to guide them, sparkling like water. The night seemed black and dreary, but it was necessary, just as the day was. Night and day would sometimes butt heads, black fading into gray, into pink into orange into blue, gradually, neither ready to give up their power but knowing that they had to.

But you couldn’t have one without the other. That was an essential part of life.

Night was when Mark was safe to wander, the moon washing down upon him, the solitude refreshing. He wondered if the stars were watching him, themselves being the brave souls of those who had moved on.

Mark gazed up at them each night. He wondered which one was Jack.

One summer, the hundreds of years of drought that had left each season dry and crackly at last brought upon a storm- a hurricane, where each drop of rain was an arrow shot down from the clouds, where the winds surely would have thrown a person as if they weighed no more than a blade of grass, where even the trees were taught to fear the heavens.

When it was over, the kingdom was in tatters. The only structure that hadn’t been harmed was the castle, standing proud through the trees.

The quiet of the night left everyone’s ears ringing after such a violent display. There were no crickets singing, there was no birdsong. There was just the gentle breeze, caressing the earth as if in apology.

That was when Mark found him.

He was standing in the clearing, admiring the stars, when one caught his eye. He turned his head north, to the brightest star that had twinkled into view.

The North Star.

_Jack._

Mark sunk to his knees in the grass and gazed up at it. It was silver, twinkling, drowning out all constellations with its beauty. If he had needed his breath, he would have lost it at once.

Each night, he would face the north, finding himself on his knees, his hands clasped together. Praying. For what, Mark didn’t know. Maybe for the kingdom, for all loyalty to prevail, for closure. To move on, to become a star himself, like his father used to tell him.

Merpeople were good fortune, prosperity and happiness; this was where the North Star would lead travelers who followed it, safely to a new haven. It shone brightly into existence each evening, promising new hopes to those who trusted it.

At night, he would pray before he stepped between the trees, remembering what Jack had told him.

_Everything’s gonna be alright._

And for years afterward, travelers and the like sneaking through the darkness would hear someone whispering for them to follow the North Star while they ventured through the woods, though they never could find where it came from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for all of the support I've had on this huge project. I posted the first chapter two years ago today, so I thought it would be fitting to wait for the anniversary to post the very last chapter. I've put a lot of effort into this story. I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you again.


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